Honey and Wine
by CarlieD
Summary: It was an accident. One bad night. For NCIS agents Tony and Ziva, that one bad night turned into a lifelong nightmare. Ziva returns to Israel to a family who cannot accept the dishonour put upon their Orthodox house, and Tony harbours the secret of their
1. Prologue

**HONEY AND WINE**

_It was an accident. One bad night. For NCIS agents Tony and Ziva, that one bad night turned into a lifelong nightmare. Ziva returns to Israel to a family who cannot accept the dishonour put upon their Orthodox house, and Tony harbours the secret of their night of passion from Jeanne. But four years later, that night is about to come to light once more as Ziva returns to the US with their young son._

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS!

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Prologue 

Ziva David moaned softly as she woke up, feeling the warmth of a man's body surrounding her. Shifting, she opened her eyes to see her colleague, Tony DiNozzo, still sleeping. His cell phone was vibrating desperately on the table next to the hotel bed. "Tony," she murmured, pushing him off of her. "Your cell phone." She sat up as he groaned and grumbled and groped blearily for the small phone. Picking up her robe, she pulled it around herself and headed for the bathroom as she heard him mumble, "Oh, hey, Jeanne… Sorry, I'm… I'm still out at the crime scene."

"I can't _believe_ I just did that," Tony groaned, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands when Ziva emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, her composure recovered. "Ziva…"

"Do not speak," Ziva said curtly. "I am attempting to resist the urge to kill you."

Tony fell silent in abashed humiliation.

Their mutual silence lasted five weeks. Then one morning, Tony walked into NCIS whistling cheerfully.

"What, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked peevishly. Tony sent a questioning look at McGee, who shrugged in a helpless, resigned fashion.

"Guess who is as good as married?" Tony asked with a grin.

"I… I don't know, Brad and Angelina?" McGee asked, frowning at him.

"_No_, probie!" Tony whacked him across the back of the head. "_Me_. Jeanne and I are getting married."

"Hmm," Gibbs said, as Abby came scampering into the bull pit.

"You're getting married, Tony?" she asked, her voice taking a sudden excited tone. "Oooh, that's exciting, congratulations!" She threw her arms around him briefly, and then turned to Gibbs. "Where'd Ziva go?"

"With the director," Gibbs replied shortly, never looking up.

She and Director Shepard arrived just then, Ziva carrying a backpack and a scarf of some kind. The young Israeli had her face set in stone as she gathered the last of her things from her desk and turned to Gibbs.

"Ziva, it's been a pleasure to have you here," Gibbs said gruffly.

"It has been an honour to learn from you, Gibbs," she replied. With that, she turned and headed towards the elevators. Tony took off after her, slipping into the car behind her. "What, Tony?" she asked coolly as he shut down the elevator.

"What, that's it?" Tony demanded. "Just leaving, no goodbye, no explanation?"

"I heard about you and Jeanne," Ziva said quietly. "_Mazel tov_, Tony. I am sure you will be happy."

"Ziva…" Tony said pleadingly.

"Tony, do not speak. That night never should have happened." There was silence for a moment while they stared at each other.

"Goodbye, Ziva," Tony said softly.

"Goodbye, Tony," she replied, as he stepped back out of the elevator. Once the doors had closed again, she pressed a hand against her front. There was no use in telling him – it would only destroy his life, his engagement, his job.


	2. Mossad's 'Missing' Agent

DISCLAIMER: Again, I don't own any of NCIS.

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Chapter 1: Mossad's 'Missing' Agent 

"Officer Danyiel ben-Mordechai, Mossad," the young Middle Eastern man said briskly, his accent thick and barely discernible. "I am to speak with Officer David. Where is she?"

"I would be Special Agent Gibbs, Officer ben-Mordechai," Gibbs said guardedly. "Why Mossad send you out here, Officer? Officer David returned to Israel four years ago. Doesn't your agency keep up with its own movements?"

ben-Mordechai frowned. "We have no records of Officer David ever returning to Mossad."

"Director David faxed those papers personally, Officer," Gibbs replied, as the rest of the agents began entering. "I signed them myself. I suggest you get on the horn with Director David and ask him where his daughter is."

"The… horn, sir?"

"The phone."

As the officer got on his cell phone, immediately beginning an anxious barrage of Hebrew orders, Tony strode into the bull pit, preening like a peacock.

"Ah, the new father returns!" Gibbs said with a grin.

"I have pictures, if anybody would like," Tony announced, pulling them up in his e-mail. He clicked the remote to start the plasma. "6 pounds, 10 ounces. Ten hours of the good doctor screaming her head off."

Gibbs scoffed. "You got it easy, DiNozzo."

"Alexa Danielle DiNozzo, Abs," Tony said, as Abby showed up and squealed in delight.

"Ooooh, when's she coming to visit with Jeanne and Melanie?" Abby asked. "What's with that guy, Gibbs?"

"Mossad officer," Gibbs replied. "Looking for Ziva."

"Did you tell him Ziva's in Israel and has been for four years?" McGee asked, giving the officer an askance glance.

"Yeah, McGee, I did. Mossad didn't seem to know that."

The officer hung up. "I will need your agency's cooperation in this matter. We are currently trying to track down an old Nazi war criminal and his family for trial in Israel. We do not expect to catch the Nazi himself, as the man is close to being 100 years old. However, his three sons are also wanted for anti-Semitic activity and crimes against the human rights of several Jewish families in Tel Aviv."

"What does this have to do with NCIS, or Ziva, for that matter?" Gibbs asked.

"One of the Carlesberg sons is a sergeant in your Marines Corp," ben-Mordechai replied. "Officer David was one of the original officers assigned to this case. The other three are, shall we say, indisposed. None of the officers currently on the case have any background knowledge of these men."

"Uh, you know that Ziva's not even in the US anymore, right?" Tony spoke up, a stabbing sensation of guilt in his chest. Every time her name was pronounced, he got that feeling. That horrible guilty feeling of knowing that he'd cheated on his wife.

"Director David insists that she is, in fact, in D.C., though not with any of the agency's operations."

The elevator doors opened just then, however, as Director Shepard descended the stairs from her office, and Ziva stepped out, a consultant's badge attached to her jacket.

She sent a terse nod to the NCIS agents behind the Mossad officer, and then began an angry conversation with ben-Mordechai in Hebrew.

ben-Mordechai held his ground until it appeared that Ziva had exhausted her vocabulary. "Carlesberg." Ziva stopped, face turning dark.

"Uh, do you mind switching into a language we understand?" Gibbs interrupted them.

"Sergeant Theodore Crohner," Ziva said, taking no introduction or explanation. She stopped only briefly to gain access to Gibbs' computer. Moments later, a military profile popped up. "True name is Theodore Carlesberg. The last time Mossad had any intelligence on him or his brothers, they were living in the US under false names."

"The sergeant's last posting was to Iraq, four months ago," Danyiel continued. "Three Mossad officers were on their way to apprehend him in Baghdad when they were captured by Iraqi forces. Director David is negotiating their release as we speak."

"The other two sons," Ziva said, pulling up two drivers' licenses, "are civilians living in the Baltimore area. Emil and Wilhelm were being monitored by several Mossad contacts in the area."

"They are being taken into custody now," Danyiel finished. "We need only that your Marine Corps sends Theodore back immediately for deportation to Israel."

"Good luck with that, ben-Mordy," Gibbs said stiffly, heading towards Director Shepard's office.

"Marines aren't going to let a man go on trial without hard evidence," Tony said, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms.

"Mossad has cabinets upon cabinets of evidence. Indisputable evidence," Danyiel replied tersely. "These brothers, and their father, were responsible for a number of bombings and tortures in Tel Aviv, all Jewish targets. Jewish schools, synagogues, Jewish marketplaces, the Jewish quarter homes…"

"They killed Tali, they killed Shai, they are going to pay for it," Ziva growled darkly. She turned to Danyiel and asked him something in Hebrew. He replied in the affirmative and she relaxed slightly.

"So why didn't Mossad know you were going back to Israel?" McGee asked, as Tony started to lean back against his desk with his arms crossed, watching Ziva warily. "I thought they'd transferred you back."

"Mossad authorities that knew I was coming back," Ziva replied shortly. "Most of the officers did not. I no longer work for Mossad, therefore the question of where I was never came up."

"Why don't you work for Mossad anymore?" Tony spoke up. God, this entire day was going from good to hell like _that_.

"That is classified information, Agent DiNozzo," Ziva said tersely.

"No, it's not," Tony objected, surprised by how formal she was being. "Dismissals are open knowledge, _Zi_-va."

"Not in Mossad," Ziva replied, just as Gibbs returned from the director's office with Director Shepard.

"McGee, DiNozzo, let's go, another crime scene," Gibbs said shortly. The two agents disappeared, leaving Danyiel and Ziva alone with the director.

"This case is going to be handled with the utmost of care and discretion," Director Shepard said, more as a statement than a question. "The last thing the US military needs right now is accusations of a Nazi sympathizer in their Iraq forces hitting media outlets. Your investigation will be conducted through NCIS, according to NCIS protocol. That means interrogation is done in a non-physical manner and Agent Gibbs and his team will be overseeing this matter." She gestured to Ziva's still-empty desk. "I hope you two are capable of working out of a single space."

"We've had workspaces in blown-out holes in the side of Mount Sinai," Danyiel replied. "This is a palace."

"Good." With that, Director Shepard returned to her office and Ziva immediately got to work.

"So the rumours are true," Danyiel said in Hebrew, his voice suddenly cool. "Ziva David, harlot of Mossad."

"How do you figure that, Danyiel?" Ziva asked coolly, not looking at him.

"I saw the way he looked at you," Danyiel replied. "Like an adulterous man whose mistress has come to his home."

"That may be, Danyiel," Ziva said shortly, "but I can still kill you twenty different ways with this paper clip. I was once one of Mossad's top officers – do not forget that."

"Motherhood has softened you, Ziva," Danyiel replied, beginning his own work from the other side of the desk. "There was a time where you would not have bothered with threatening."

"Leave Calev out of this," Ziva ordered. Just then, the phone rang. She snatched it up. "Ziva. Yes, yes, I will be right down." She hung up. "I will be back shortly, Danyiel. Begin with Theodore's back –"

"You forget who is the officer and who is the consultant," Danyiel interrupted.

"You forget who knows these brothers and how they operate," Ziva returned.

* * *

Ziva stepped out into the lobby of NCIS, scanning the heads quickly. When she spotted Chayyim, holding her three-year-old by the hand, she sighed. "Chayyim," she said tiredly. 

"Ziva, I have a consultation at the university this afternoon that will take many hours and involves many antiquated objects. I have a debate with the Messianic Studies professor in an hour. I cannot keep Calev."

"I have books, Mama," Calev spoke up hopefully. "And toys. I won't be any trouble."

Ziva sighed again, rubbing her head. "I hate my father," she muttered. "He did this on purpose… Very well. Come, Calev." He happily took Ziva's hand and followed her back upstairs.

"Mama, is this where you worked when you lived in America?"

"Yes, Calev," Ziva replied. She sent Danyiel a warning glance when he saw her come in. "Now, Mama needs to work. So can you sit here quietly for a while?"

"Yes, Mama," Calev said, letting her lift him up onto a chair she'd pulled over from Tony's desk. He opened up his backpack, took out a picture book and contentedly began to look at it.

* * *

"Hey, I heard a rumour that Ziva's here," came Abby's cheerful voice as she came upstairs into the bull pit. She looked around. "Oh. They're not here yet. But _you_ are!" She came over and hugged Ziva. "I missed you! You didn't even really say goodbye, so I knew that you must be coming back, but when it was four years and you didn't come back, I started getting worried, but you're here!" 

Ziva laughed and returned Abby's hug. "Shalom, Abby."

"Who is this… this…" Danyiel asked in Hebrew, looking at Abby warily. "Who is this creature?"

"Danyiel," Ziva said in English, "this is Abby Sciuto, she is the forensic scientist. Abby, this is Officer – "

"Danyiel ben-Mordechai, I found that out from McGee," Abby said promptly, holding out her hand for Danyiel. Reluctantly, he shook it. "And who are you?" she asked Calev cheerfully, sticking out her hand again. Calev looked up from his book at her for a moment, and then his eyes flickered to Ziva questioningly.

"Abby, he does not speak English," Ziva apologized. "His name is Calev. Calev," she added in Hebrew to her son, "this is Abby."

"Shalom," Calev said politely, shaking her hand. Then he returned to his book.

"So who is he?" Abby asked.

Ziva hesitated. "Calev is my son," she said finally.

"Since when do you have a _kid_?" Abby asked incredulously.

"Since three and a half years ago," Ziva replied. Her reflexes kicked in when she caught a glimpse of Calev weaving his foot into the cables of the plasma TV, pulling at them interestedly. "Calev, stop it!"

Abby looked at the little boy for a while longer. Then she asked, "Does Tony know?"

Ziva sighed and shook her head. "Do you really think that he would have married Jeanne if I had told him before I left?"

"Yeah, you're right," Abby admitted.

"So who is the baby?" Ziva asked suddenly, gesturing to the picture still displayed on the plasma.

"That's, um, that's Tony and Jeanne's new baby," Abby said, twisting a pigtail around her index finger nervously.

"Hmm," Ziva said. She cast a glance at Tony's desk, where a framed picture of a second little girl probably about two years old was sitting next to his screen. "Their second, I take it?"

"That's Melanie," Abby said quietly, sounding slightly apologetic. "She's two. The new baby's Alexa."

"Hmm," Ziva said again.

* * *

"Mama," Calev asked plaintively, closing his book once again for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last four hours. "Mama, may we leave soon? It's Shabbat tonight." 

"You, Mossad harlot and assassin, keep Shabbat?" Danyiel asked derisively.

"We will leave soon, Calev," Ziva said patiently, ignoring Danyiel. "Mama has to finish working."

"But before sunset, Mama," her little boy scolded.

"Yes, my little yeshiva boy," Ziva replied teasingly, ruffling his hair just as the NCIS agents returned from their crime scene. "Next time I look at you, you will be growing _peyot_ and wearing _tzit tzit_."

"When I'm a man, I can wear _tzit tzit_," Calev said.

"Yes, when you are a man," Ziva affirmed.

"Is it just me," Tony said, stopping in front of Ziva's desk, "or were there _two_ of you here when we left?"

"There was," McGee said calmly, though he was looking askance at Calev. "Now there's three. So what, Tony?"

"Calev decided to come and join us," Ziva said shortly, examining a file from Mossad. Her cell phone began to ring just then on the desk, and just as she was reaching for it, Calev grabbed it and opened it. "Calev, stop. Give me that," she rebuked, taking the phone from his hands.

"But I want to…" Calev whined.

"_Ziva, are you done yet?"_ came the voice of Chayyim over the line. _"You have been there for hours."_

Despite herself, Ziva laughed slightly. "Patience, Chayyim. Nighttime will come soon enough."

"_Yes, but will you be back by then?"_

"Calev and I will leave shortly, Chayyim." With that, she hung up the cell. "All right, Calev, get ready to go. Danyiel, we will meet –"

"After Shabbat," Danyiel finished, putting away the papers and files that had accumulated. "Very well. You can drop off the evidence files in the lock-up room, nu?"

"Yes, I will," Ziva sighed, kneeling down momentarily to help Calev with his coat.

"Who's the kid, Ziva?" Gibbs asked. "And where's ben-Mordy going?"

"We are finished for the day, so Danyiel is returning to wherever it is that he is staying," Ziva replied, pulling on her own coat. "This is Calev."

"And who's Calev?" he asked.

"My son," she said as she picked up the box. "Danyiel and I will be back on Sunday. Come, Calev."

"Whoa, wait, you can't just say that and walk out," Tony said, catching her arm. "How'd _you_ end up with a kid?"

Ziva sent him a withering look. "How do most people end up with children, Agent DiNozzo? Goodbye." With that, she left before he could think of a comeback, Calev dashing behind her.

"_That_ was a stupid question, DiNozzo," Gibbs said bluntly, turning back to his computer screen.

"That _was_ a pretty pointless question, Tony," McGee pointed out.

* * *

Ziva sighed as she pulled her car into the parking lot of the college housing campus. Calev had fallen asleep in the backseat, apparently worn out with the excitement of his day. "Just a few more feet, Ziva," she murmured to herself. "A few more feet and you're home." She'd forgotten how much energy investigation took. 

Shaking her head, she got out of the car and somehow untangled Calev and his backpack from the seatbelt, lifting him up into her arms.

"Shalom, Ziva!" called one pair of students as they passed her on the way in. "Here," the boy said, holding the door for her.

"Thank you, Aaron," Ziva said gratefully.

"Yeah, Rebbe Mendel mentioned you were back at your old job for a bit," the girl said. "Shabbat Shalom, eh?"

"Yes, Shabbat Shalom to you both too, Aaron, Ellie," Ziva replied, heading for the stairs.

Today had been too uncomfortable for words. She hadn't quite remembered just how much Calev resembled Tony until she had seen her old colleague once more. And it was only a matter of time before somebody else figured it out – Abby already had. Ziva had a strong suspicion McGee at very least suspected.

Shifting her burden to one arm, Ziva managed to open the door of apartment 203, the enticing smell of chicken wafting through the house. "Chayyim?" she called, dropping Calev's backpack in the entranceway. "Chayyim, are you home?" Sighing as she concluded that he wasn't home, Ziva deposited Calev gently on his bed and pulled his favourite blanket over him. She closed his bedroom door quietly and contemplated passing out on the couch.

A warm body behind her, a glass of wine being offered dismissed any previous thought. "Shalom, Ziva," Chayyim whispered into her ear.

"Mmmm, you feel so nice," Ziva breathed, taking a sip of her wine. "How was work?"

"It's over," Chayyim replied, nibbling gently at her ear. "Is Calev asleep already?"

"Oh, yes," Ziva affirmed, laughing when his arm slid around her waist. "Chayyim," she teased lightly, setting down her glass on the table, "it's Shabbat. You're not supposed to work on Shabbat." She retrieved his glass and set it down as well.

"No, we reflect upon the beautiful creations of Adonai on Shabbat," Chayyim replied.

"Somehow, I don't think this is what Adonai had in mind when the _mitzvot_ were declared…" Ziva retorted, even as Chayyim swept her back into their bedroom.


	3. The Memories Which Destroy

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the NCIS characters.

NOTE FROM AUTHOR: See glossary of Hebrew terms at the end of the chapter if you want any definitions.

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**Chapter 2: The Memories Which Destroy**

_18-year-old Ziva David laughed as she watched her 12-year-old sister Tali dancing with one of the other boys in her class. It seemed like so long ago, so much longer than six years since her own Bat Mitzvah (1)._

_"Ziva, my daughter, why are you not celebrating your sister's happy day with one of those young Haganah (2) soldiers?" Chanah David asked affectionately, coming up beside her daughter with 9-year-old Shai trailing along behind her._

_"Haganah was in the early days of Israel, Mother," Ziva said with a slight laugh. "The Haganah soldiers are no longer young. You speak of the Mossad officers."_

_"Yes, I suppose you are right, Ziva," Chanah sighed._

_"This is Tali's party, Mother," Ziva said. "I am fine to see her have fun."_

_Chanah smiled, and Ziva knew that she'd given the right answer. Her mother patted her cheek. "Oh, but that all my daughters will grow to be as perfect as you."_

_"I will be better than Ziva, Mama," Shai spoke up just then, and Chanah and Ziva both burst out laughing, Ziva pulling Shai into an affectionate hug._

_"And how, little gift?" Ziva asked teasingly. "How will you beat me?"_

_"I will not fight with Hillel Or, even though he annoys very much."_

_Chanah chuckled in appreciation. "Yes, I do not think Benyamin has ever forgiven Ziva for that."_

_"The only reason he has not forgiven me is because I beat him," Ziva laughed._

_Shai pulled away from Ziva just then as one of her many young friends in the Jewish Quarter poked their head in the door. "Mama, I'm going to play with Rivka!"_

_"Very well, Shai. Do not go far!" Chanah called warningly after her._

* * *

Ziva awoke with a scream of terror. "Shai! No!" 

Immediately, she felt Chayyim jump awake beside her, his arms quickly pulling her against him. "Ziva, Ziva, calm down, it was only a dream, only a dream."

"No," she whispered as she felt the tears gather in the corners of her eyes. "No, not a dream. Dreams are not real. Dreams do not end with little girls…" she faltered as the memories of the terrible day came rushing back at her.

"Shh, _haY'karah (__3)_, it is in the past," Chayyim soothed. "It is finished, it is over."

Ziva shook her head. "No, not over, Chayyim. It will never be over. Not until they have paid for their crimes." She eased away from him slowly, sitting up to breathe and regain some composure.

From behind her, she heard Chayyim sigh. "Ziva, come back to bed." She shook her head once more. "Ziva…"

"Not yet, Chayyim," she said softly, getting up and pulling a robe around her.

* * *

Ziva watched the quiet campus of the Tri-State Jewish College. Here and there she saw a couple out walking, a candle flicker in the apartments across the quad, but for the most part, a Friday evening here was silent. It was Shabbat, and even the least observant held Shabbat in esteem. 

Mother had always strived to create a memorable Shabbat, while she lived. She had been the exemplary Jewish housewife. They had had their family Shabbat traditions, same as many other families in the quarter: the eve of Shabbat, before dinner, Mother would welcome it in, with the traditional candles and the blessing. They used a seven-candle menorah (4): one for Father, one for Mother, one for each of the four sisters and the middle candle for Adonai.

They had always lit Mother and Tali and Shai's candles, even after their deaths…

"Mama," came her little son's voice to interrupt her thoughts. "Mama, I can't sleep."

Sighing, Ziva turned around. "Come here, Calev." She lifted him up into her arms, cuddling him close. "Why does your sleep elude you, my little one?"

"I don't know," Calev yawned, laying his head down on her shoulder. "I don't sleep very well since we came to America. Is it almost time to return to Tel Aviv?"

Ziva smiled. "We return to Tel Aviv after Pesach (5), Calev. Once Chayyim is done his teaching."

"But Pesach is so far away, Mama," Calev complained sleepily. "It is not even close to Rosh HaShanah (6) yet."

"Hush, Calev, it will come soon enough," Ziva replied. She paused a moment, rubbing his back soothingly. Then she began to sing him a lullaby, softly. Soon, the little boy was fast asleep.

To think that, in another time, she could've been stoned for what she'd done. Some people in Israel would still stone her today. To contemplate how something as perfect and as innocent as Calev could have come from such a serious wrong as her night with Tony… Part of her knew it had been wrong, cruel even, to leave NCIS the way she did. No real goodbyes to anybody, no forewarning even to Jenny. She could still see the confusion and the shock on her colleagues' faces: Abby, McGee, Ducky.

"And to think this is a woman who was once _metzada (__7)_," Chayyim said teasingly from the hallway.

Ziva sniffed and brushed past him. "You do not stop pestering, Chayyim, do you? If you are not careful, I will be _metzada_-ing _you_."

Chayyim muttered under his breath, "'Better to live on a corner of the roof than share a house with a quarrelsome wife.'"

"Hey!" Ziva hissed at him irritably. "I am not your wife! And I am not quarrelsome!"

"Why are you so testy tonight?" Chayyim demanded.

"I am not testy!" Ziva exclaimed, putting Calev back into bed and pulling up his covers.

* * *

"I'll get her, you keep sleeping," Tony murmured drowsily to Jeanne as Alexa continued to cry insistently. With that, he stumbled out of bed and into the new nursery, lifting up his baby daughter on autopilot. 

This was supposed to be his dream come true: surrounded by beautiful women in his own home. For a day or two, it had been. Then Ziva had returned.

He knew as well as she did that they never should've slept together. It humiliated him the first time he'd realized that he'd _enjoyed_ it. That it had awakened feelings, sensations that, he was ashamed to say, Jeanne never had.

Was it possible to love two women at once?

Sighing as he settled Alexa against his shoulder and began to walk her around the room, his mind began to wander back to earlier that day, when they had returned from their crime scene to find Danyiel and Ziva still working, and a little boy sitting in his chair, reading a Hebrew storybook. The moment the little boy had looked up, there was no mistaking that he was Ziva's child – the same skin, the same hair, the same eyes.

That comment she'd made before she had left… was she implying that the little boy was his son? Had she been pregnant when Mossad had transferred her back to Tel Aviv? Why hadn't she said anything to him, then, in the elevator?

'Because you had just announced your engagement, stupid,' he answered himself. 'How badly would you have panicked if you'd found out that the colleague you'd slept with was pregnant with your child while you married another woman?'

Tony closed his eyes and tried not to panic too much. Ziva and the boy were temporary. Jeanne and the girls were permanent. But even as he told himself that, he knew that he was lying. Even if he could convince himself that Ziva was temporary, he could never justify abandoning his child.

Sighing again, Tony went out to the kitchen to find a bottle to warm up, watching out his back window at the few lights illuminating the campus of the Tri-State Jewish College a few blocks away from his home. Jeanne had been so pleased, so excited to find out that piece of trivia – she was convinced that meant it would be a quiet area, not a lot of crime, good neighbours, decent traffic. Especially on Friday night and Saturday.

* * *

"Calev, do you want to come with Mama today?" Ziva asked as she pulled back her hair from her face. 

"No, I want to stay with Chayyim today," Calev said, looking up momentarily from his colouring pages. "I will come with you tomorrow, Mama."

Ziva glanced at Chayyim momentarily. He shrugged. "I am only lecturing today, a few student meetings. I do not mind."

"Very well," she said, stooping briefly to kiss Calev's cheek. "I will be home tonight. Be a good boy for Chayyim."

"Yes, Mama," Calev replied, giving her a peck in return.

"Shalom, Ziva," Chayyim said, apparently still miffed at her from their terse argument last night.

"Shalom, Chayyim," she returned coolly, lifting up her bag and leaving.

* * *

To her surprise, the NCIS agents were already there with Danyiel when she arrived. 

"Since when does NCIS work Sundays?" she asked Gibbs, setting down her bag next to her old desk.

"Since Mossad decided to work Sunday," Gibbs replied.

"What's all the pictures doing in this file?" McGee asked, flipping through a large stack of pictures. "And what do the Post-Its say?"

Tony whistled as he looked at one photo over McGee's shoulder. "Wow, she looks like a miniature Ziva, that one."

"Not to mention this one," McGee said, pulling out another.

"Pictures?" Danyiel asked, taking the pile from McGee and looking through them. "Ziva," he asked in Hebrew, "are these the pictures from the Wailing Wall?"

"Yes," Ziva replied, pulling the pictures of her two dead sisters from McGee and Tony's hands.

"Why are they no longer there?" Danyiel asked.

"When the case went cold, Officer Levy returned all evidence and memorials to the lock-up. Possibly because they were causing too much upset."

"_English_, please, Ziva, ben-Mordy," Gibbs said pointedly.

"These are pictures of the Carlesburg family's victims over the last fifteen years," Danyiel explained, as Ziva's face tightened and darkened. "At Mossad headquarters, we have a section of the building called 'the Wailing Wall'. Every victim of anti-Semitic crime has their picture posted there until their killers have been caught, tried and convicted."

* * *

"Why?" Tony asked, eyes watching Ziva as she looked at the two photos she held in her hand. 

"So that we never forget," Ziva said quietly, setting down her sisters' pictures. "Although most do not need the pictures to remind them." She sighed. "When the Carlesburg case went cold, the lead officer on the investigation removed the photos. This family has killed numerous children and youth in their history. Some officers were losing self-control with these monsters still on the loose."

She looked at the photo of her 9-year-old sister, laughing in the Israeli summer sun with her best friend as they hugged. Shai and Rivka's eyes sparkled with the joy and the innocence of childhood, their young faces bright and healthily glowing. She still remembered the day she had taken that picture, the month before their attack. It was Rivka's 9th birthday, and Shai had begged her to come along and take pictures. They had gone to the Tel Aviv harbour to go swimming.

Next to Shai and Rivka was the picture of Tali taken the day of her death – mere hours before her death. Tali had been nothing like Shai when it came to pictures – she hated having her photograph taken, so it was a favourite pastime of the two sisters: Ziva would try to sneak a picture, usually enlisting the aid of the baby of the family, Ahava, and Tali would try to avoid them. This particular photo, 22-year-old Ziva, home on temporary leave from Mossad, had caught her just as Tali was leaving to go to the market with her friends. 4-year-old Ahava had jumped at Tali in front of the door, wrapping her arms around Tali's neck as her older sister hugged her indulgently. Ahava was giggling, Tali smiling with that look that said, 'All right, Ziva, you got me that time'…

* * *

"This was all before my time at Mossad, I don't know who went where or what went when…" Danyiel started to say apologetically, when Ziva yanked the pictures from his hands. She flipped through them and pulled out a wedding picture of a young couple. 

"1995. Aharon and Dreiza Lucometz, both 24," she said. "Both killed by a single sniper rifle shot their wedding night. Weeks of investigation tied Wilhelm Carlesburg to the shooting. However, the evidence was circumstantial at best."

She continued to pull out various pictures, reeling off names, ages, situations, killing method, the suspect as if they were permanently engrained into her memory.

She stopped and picked up the picture of the two laughing little girls. "1998. Rivka Williams and Shai David. Both 9. Abducted from the curbside." She stopped again, apparently trying to regain her self-control. "Assaulted and beaten, tortured for twenty-five hours and fifty-two minutes before being disposed of in the desert outside of Tel Aviv, still alive…"

_

* * *

"Shai!" Ziva yelled again, voice going hoarse. "Rivka!"_

_"Ziva…" came a weak cry from nearby. Ziva managed to find her little sister lying so still in the burning sand._

_"Shai, little treasure…" Ziva gasped, gently lifting her sister into her arms as she knelt beside the young girl._

_"Mama…" Shai moaned._

_"Shh, you will see Mama soon, Shai," Ziva soothed. "She is at home with the new baby."_

_"A boy?" Shai asked weakly._

_"A girl, Shai," Ziva replied gently. "Ahava. Another sister for you to compete with."_

_"So Ari is still the only boy?" Shai asked._

_"Ari is still the only boy," Ziva confirmed._

_"Good," Shai whispered. "There can never be too many sisters in the world. Ohevet otcha, Ziva…"_

_"I love you, too, Shai," Ziva murmured back as she watched her young sister die with a final shuddering breath. And the world seem to go blurry, indistinct as she heard the sounds of the search team murmuring, "Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the universe, the True Judge," and the sound of tearing cloth._

* * *

"Ziva?" McGee said again, and Ziva yanked herself back to the present. 

"I am sorry, I was distracted for a moment," she murmured. "You were asking?"

"I was, uh, asking if she was any relation to you," McGee said uneasily.

"My sister," Ziva replied quietly.

"I thought you said your sister's name was Tali," Tony asked with a frown.

"I have three sisters," Ziva told him. "I had three sisters," she corrected herself with ironic grief lacing her voice. "I have only one sister now." She sighed and bit her lower lip. "We found them only moments before Shai died. I had her in my arms… she was crying for our mother."

"How old were you?" Tony asked quietly, watching her with a hint of compassion in his eyes.

"I was 18," Ziva said.

* * *

When the agents and officers broke for a quick lunch, Ziva pulled out her cell phone, dialling Chayyim's number. 

"Yes, Ziva?" Chayyim asked coldly.

"Give the phone to Calev," Ziva ordered tersely. She felt herself relax when she heard Calev's happy voice come over the connection. "Shalom, Calev. How was your morning?"

"I finished my book for you, Mama, while Chayyim was teaching," Calev announced. "Are you coming home soon so I can give it to you?"

"It will not be long, Calev. I will be home for dinner," Ziva laughed. "What is your book about?"

"Well, I'll read it to you tonight," Calev said brightly.

"All the more reason for me to come home on time tonight, nu?" Ziva teased. "I must go now, Calev. Ohev otach, little one."

"Ohev otach, Mama."

* * *

No sooner had they all returned to work than Tony's cell started ringing. He checked his caller id. "Sorry, boss, it's Jeanne," he apologized to Gibbs before he flipped it open. "Hey, honey." 

"Sweet mother of pearl, what in the world is that?" McGee asked slowly, getting to his feet and pointing at the window.

The rest of the team turned to face where he pointed. Outside the window, across the river from the Navy Yard, a large cloud of dark smoke was rising, and flames licking from the rooftops of several buildings.

"But you and the girls are okay?" Tony asked Jeanne as he joined the others at the window.

"Where is that?" Gibbs demanded.

"Uh, I think that's a campus of some kind," McGee replied.

"It's the Tri-State Jewish College," Ziva said, hitting redial on her cell phone and distancing herself from the group. "Come on, Chayyim, pick up," she murmured in Hebrew, trying not to panic. This was America, after all, not Tel Aviv. People do not blow up Jewish colleges in America…

_"Shalom, you've reached Rebbe Chayyim Mendel, professor-consultant in residence at Tri-State Jewish College. I regret to inform you that I am unavailable at the moment…"_

"Damn it, Chayyim!" she exclaimed, narrowly succeeding in resistance to the urge to throw her cell phone against the wall. "Pick up your damn cell phone!"

"Ziva?" Gibbs asked expectantly.

"Damn it…" she said again.

Danyiel appeared at her side almost instantaneously, grim understanding in his eyes. "Come. We'll check it out. No outsiders," he added sharply to the NCIS agents trying to follow. "They will not permit any non-Jews onto the campus. Not after an attack like that."

* * *

It smelled like death on campus. It was her only thought outside of 'Are Chayyim and Calev all right?'. 

She had seen and smelled and felt enough of death.

**

* * *

Glossary of Hebrew terms:**

1 Bat Mitzvah: coming-of-age celebration for Jewish girls at age of 12.

2 Haganah: Jewish defensive forces during the war for independence in the late 1940s.

3 haY'karah: beloved.

4 Menorah: Jewish ritual candlestick.

5 Pesach: Jewish holiday – usually occurs around Easter.

6 Rosh HaShanah: Jewish holiday – usually occurs around end of September, beginning of October.

7 Metzada: the term refers to a place also known as Masada in Israel where Jewish Zealots held off the Roman army. Gibbs uses this term in 'Kill Ari, Pt.2' when he asks Jenny about Ziva's role in Mossad, so I am assuming that it is also used in conjunction with a colloquial term for 'assassin' within Mossad (or at least in the show).


	4. Sheol

AUTHOR'S NOTE : It seems that my research in part for the Hebrew language and culture has been a bit erroneous. Thank you to Liat1989 for pointing out my errors, I'll try to doublecheck my resources from now on. I thought I was getting them from reputable, trustworthy resources, but apparently not. I'm not going through the whole scene of changing Shai's name to avoid confusing readers.

ADJUSTMENTS MADE TO CHAPTER 1 AND 2: Fixed vocabulary errors, slight anomalies in textual verisimilitude.

DISCLAIMER : I don't own any of NCIS.

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* * *

**_

Chapter 3: Sheol 

"Oh, my God…" McGee said slowly as the NCIS agents pulled up to the gates of the TSJC.

"No accident could cause this much damage…" Tony said, watching as Danyiel and Ziva entered the campus.

"No, DiNozzo," Gibbs said grimly. "This was an attack. A planned one."

* * *

Ziva could already hear _kaddish_ being recited all around the campus.

"How many more must die before they are brought to justice?" Danyiel murmured, kneeling to close the eyes of a dead freshman.

"How many have already died by men such as these?" Ziva replied quietly. "Our people's history is written in their blood." Abruptly, she stood up, trying not to run towards the main building, where Chayyim was supposed to be teaching his Israeli History course, where her son was supposed to be sitting to the side quietly…

* * *

"No," the security guard said firmly to Gibbs, even as the entire team flashed their ID. "_Goyim_ stay outside of the campus."

"We're with the two Mossad officers who just entered," McGee attempted to cajole. "Officer ben-Mordechai and Officer David?"

"Go back to your Navy Yard," the guard replied. "We are mourning our dead."

"Devan, what do they want?" asked one girl as she approached.

"The _goyim_ want entry to the campus," he replied tersely.

"I'm sorry, we can't permit access to the campus by any outside people," the girl said apologetically. "We must keep in accordance with the wishes of the most Orthodox of the families."

Tony hesitated just a brief moment before he stepped forward. "And what if I were to tell you my son is in there?" he asked quietly, cringing internally as he felt all eyes turn to him in shock.

"You're not old enough to have a child on campus," the girl said. "It was a nice try, though."

"He's three," Tony replied softly. "His mother is currently living on campus."

The girl looked at him momentarily. She seemed to study his face for a while. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "Only Jews."

* * *

Ziva stepped carefully around the rubble that once had been the entrance to the Chava Building. "Chayyim!" she called. "Calev!"

"You search Chayyim, Ziva?" called Richard, the dean of the International Studies faculty.

"Chayyim and Calev, Richard, yes," Ziva called back desperately. "Chayyim was teaching in Chava, nu?"

Richard's grim face told her that the answer wouldn't be pleasant. "Chayyim is dead, Ziva. One of the explosions originated in Chava."

"Dear sweet Adonai, not Calev…" Ziva moaned.

"He lives yet," Richard said quietly. "Doctor Benoit does not think that he will survive. Come, I will bring you to him."

"Benoit?" Ziva asked sharply, even as she began to go with Richard towards the triage area.

"Doctor Jeanne Benoit. Not one of our own," Richard replied, "but we were in desperate need of a doctor. When the Jewish doctors have arrived, she will be relieved of her duty."

* * *

Ziva could hear her child's piteous cries as she approached.

"Mama! Mama!"

She saw the young doctor kneel down next to the boy and whisper something to him. She saw the anger already in Jeanne's eyes as she gazed at the sobbing child.

"Dr Benoit!" Richard called. She looked up and her eyes narrowed in Ziva's direction. "Dr Benoit, Calev's mother, Ziva David. Ziva, Dr Benoit."

"We've met," Jeanne said tersely. "Briefly."

"Calev, Calev, sweet little one, do not be frightened," Ziva soothed, lifting Calev gently from his mat into her arms. "Mama is here. Mama is here, Calev…" She wasn't getting into a non-existent territory dispute with Jeanne. If the woman was jealous of her, it wasn't of Ziva's concern at the moment. It was fairly obvious which one had Tony – it wasn't Ziva who wore his ring, lived with him, raised children with him.

"Mama, I hurt…" Calev cried, though weakly. Ziva could see how the lethargy, the loss of strength was quickly coming upon him. It felt familiar: it felt like Shai, like Tali.

"Shh, my little Calev, I am here," Ziva soothed again, helplessly. She looked up briefly when Jeanne glared at her. "If you cannot separate your feelings and personal opinions from your work, Dr Benoit," she said curtly, "then you should leave now."

"He won't survive," Jeanne said coldly. "He's going to die."

Ziva inspected her son. She realized all of a sudden what was wrong: he had a wound, a wound to the chest that hadn't been treated. A wound that Jeanne could not have missed…

Gently, she laid Calev back down on his mat and took off his blood-soaked t-shirt to tend the wound. "Danyiel," she said in Hebrew. "Escort Dr Benoit off of the campus. Do not allow her back on. Our own should be arriving shortly."

Ziva sighed and watched her child's trusting, tear-filled eyes as she reached for the triage kit, removing alcohol, surgical thread and needle, and gauze. "I'm sorry, Calev," she whispered to him, leaning down to kiss his nose lightly. "It will hurt very much while Mama is fixing your cut."

"I'll be brave, Mama," Calev whispered back.

"That's my boy," Ziva said with a slight smile. She tried to separate mother from Mossad as she began to clean the wound and stitch it, Calev's pained cries piercing her heart.

* * *

"Jeanne?" Tony asked incredulously as Danyiel released his wife's arm. "Jeanne, what are you doing here? Where are the girls?"

"Susan's watching them," Jeanne replied coolly. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Tony stopped, at a loss to explain his reasoning. Jeanne sniffed in response to his silence.

"Thought so," she muttered darkly.

"Jeanne… Jeanne," Tony repeated pleadingly, casting a desperate glance at Gibbs, who shrugged and looked away in a clear 'you made the hole, you get yourself out' gesture. "Jeanne, come back, let me explain…"

"_Explain_?" Jeanne exclaimed, whirling around. "Explain, oh, I don't need an explanation, Tony. I understand all too well. The boy's older than Melanie, Tony! You had her long before you had me! I don't appreciate finding out I'm some sort of 'side job'."

"Jeanne, that's not how it…"

"Shut up, Tony, I'm not finished."

"Jeanne!" Tony finally roared in frustration. "God, Jeanne, who am I married to, you or her?"

But instead of diffusing the tension, that sentence made it escalate.

"Oh, so _that's_ supposed to make me forgive you?" Jeanne shrieked. "Now instead you cheating on her with me, you're cheating on _me _with _her_?"

"God, why do I _try_?" Tony exclaimed, turning around. "You don't even give me a chance to explain!"

* * *

"Mama, I'm so tired…" Calev slurred, head nestled securely beneath Ziva's chin as she rocked him.

"No sleep quite yet, little one," Ziva replied, smoothing down his hair. "Stay awake for a little while longer, Calev."

"I can't stay awake any more, Mama," Calev complained. "Please let me sleep."

Ziva hesitated. To sleep would mean death. Yet she knew, she _knew_ that his injury had been treated too late…

"Very well, Calev, go to sleep," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "I love you."

"… love you…" he mumbled, his breathing becoming more and more steady and spaced apart. Ziva rocked him gently, singing a soft lullaby until she registered that he was no longer breathing.

* * *

Gibbs would recognize the scream of a grief-torn parent in any language – he had been there. The mothers of insurgents he'd killed in Desert Storm, the heart wrenching sound of their wails carrying over the hot wind to the retreating US forces… the grief that had nearly destroyed him when Shannon and Kelly had been killed…

Oh yeah, he knew the sound.

The scream came mere moments before the first of the coroner's vans arrived. Danyiel appeared at the gate, face grim as he spoke briefly to one of the drivers in Hebrew. Then from the wreckage and smoke came Ziva, accompanying two black body bags.

The NCIS agents were all shocked to see the pain and the tears in Ziva's eyes. Jeanne stopped and turned around to watch her.

"I hope you are happy for killing him," Ziva said to her quietly. Jeanne didn't reply. With that, Ziva stepped up into the coroner's van and the doors closed behind her.

"Where to, ma'am?" the driver asked quietly. "Grace General?"

Ziva thought for a moment. "The Navy yard, please."

"Ma'am?"

"The Navy yard," Ziva repeated. "NCIS, medical examiner's office."

"You… military?"

"Former NCIS. I would like to have a friend do the final examination."

* * *

"Ziva, it has been far too long," Ducky greeted genially. "What brings you to Autopsy?"

"Ducky, I need to ask you a favour," Ziva said quietly.

"Anything, Ziva, anything," Ducky replied, face growing concerned as Palmer entered with the two body bags on the trolley, and seeing Ziva's blood-stained shirt.

Ziva paused a moment to compose herself. "I need you to determine a cause of death." She stopped Palmer as he was about to transfer the bigger bag to the table. "No, not that one. I know how he died. The small one."

Palmer and Ducky looked at her worriedly as they lifted the second bag onto the autopsy table with no effort at all. Carefully, Ducky unzipped the bag to reveal the small body of Calev David. "Ziva?"

"His name is Calev," Ziva said quietly, reaching out to brush a wayward dark curl away from her son's face. "Three years old. He died an hour ago at the Tri-State Jewish College." Her voice was flat, too carefully regulated.

"The explosions we heard?" Palmer asked softly, as Ducky began to remove Calev's blood-soaked t-shirt. Ziva nodded.

"A shrapnel wound," Ziva said as Ducky inspected the stitched wound in Calev's chest. "I sutured it on-site, hoping that it would…"

"Get him to the hospital," Ducky finished for her sympathetically. "Where are his parents? Have they been told?"

"I am his mother," Ziva replied. "Ducky, the shrapnel wound... would it have been fatal?"

Ducky examined the depth of the gash. "It is serious, Ziva, but not fatal. Prompt and proper medical attention would easily take care of the wound until he arrived at the hospital for surgery. How long was he bleeding before you sutured the injury?"

"I don't know," Ziva said faintly. "Danyiel and I arrived at the campus about half an hour after the attack. I found him about fifteen minutes later in triage."

"So he could have been bleeding for a potential of forty-five minutes?" Palmer asked. "Some sort of medical personnel must've been at triage."

"There was one doctor there," Ziva replied, ice creeping into her voice.

"Well, any person who has taken first aid knows that you don't remove the object of a piercing wound until you're in a proper, controlled medical environment!" Ducky exclaimed, rage evident in his voice. "And even if the boy had removed the object himself, the doctor should've known to emergency-suture!"

"Ziva, this is deliberate malpractice," Palmer said shakily. "That's as good as murder. What was the doctor's name?"

"Dr Jeanne Benoit," Ziva said darkly. She sighed. "Thank you, Ducky."

* * *

"Jeanne!" Tony snapped as he stormed into the house. "You can't walk away from this!"

"Dada!" Melanie shrieked excitedly, dashing at him and reaching up. Indulgently, Tony lifted his daughter up onto his hip.

"Jeanne!"

"What are you doing in my house? With my daughter?" Jeanne asked coolly, showing up in the hallway with Alexa nestled into her arms. "Why don't you go be with your little Israeli lover and son?"

"Excuse me, it's _our_ house and _our_ daughter," Tony replied testily, letting Melanie grab a handful of his hair and pull at it insistently. "Melanie, stop that. Jeanne, you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion."

"Oh, so why don't you explain to me what part of _your_ cheating _I'm_ blowing out of proportion? I think I'm justified in my anger!"

"The fact that you think Ziva and I were some kind of item!" Tony exploded. "God, Jeanne, it was a mistake! One night and I've felt guilty about it every day for the last four years! She left for Israel not long after that! I didn't even know she was pregnant!"

Jeanne eyed him suspiciously.

"Jeanne," he pleaded, "there _is_ no Ziva-and-me. There never was. There never will be. You and me. That's all."

"What about her?" Jeanne asked sullenly, though an edge of panic was beginning to make its way into her voice.

"Ziva's with somebody else, Jeanne. There is no room for me, even if I wanted to be in there," Tony said cajolingly. "The most there'll be is Calev. If he's all right…"

Jeanne stared at him, her breathing rapidly turning into hyperventilation. "Oh, God…" she whispered. "Oh, God, no."

"Jeanne?"

The doorbell rang and a knock pounded at the door. "Mossad! Open the door!"

"What the hell is going on?" Tony demanded as he went to answer the door, setting Melanie back down on the ground. "NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. What do you want?" he asked the two officers at the door.

"We are here to take Dr Jeanne Benoit into custody," Danyiel said curtly. "For deliberate malpractice causing the death of Calev David."

"What?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Your own medical examiner confirmed the cause of death, Agent DiNozzo," the other officer said. "Now step aside."

"No need to come in," Jeanne said softly, appearing beside Tony. "I'll go." She paused and tears filled her eyes as she passed Alexa to her husband. "I'm sorry, Tony."

Tony couldn't speak for the shock.

* * *

"Did you hear about Jeanne?" McGee asked Abby as he entered the forensics lab. Abby nodded, examining a tox screen result. "What's that?"

"Tox screen for Ducky," Abby said quietly. "Take a look at this, McGee. What does this look like to you?"

McGee examined the print-out. "Looks like coagulation suppressant to me."

"Blood thinner, yeah, that's what it is, McGee," Abby said grimly. "Want to know whose blood this is?"

"Not so sure I want to," McGee replied warily.

"This is Ziva's son's blood."

* * *

"I don't believe this," Tony repeated, rocking Alexa distractedly as he tried to steer Melanie's stroller out of the elevator at NCIS one-handed.

"Believe it, DiNozzo," Gibbs said gruffly as he took the stroller from his agent. "She's just confessed. She's at lock-up, no visitors until Israel and the States finish arguing over who gets to try her."

"I don't believe this," Tony said. "This cannot be happening." He left his daughters with Gibbs, who seemed more than happy to occupy two happy little girls, and went down to Autopsy.

He met Ducky and Palmer midway down the hall. "Um, you'll want to leave Ziva alone for right now," Palmer said uneasily.

Tony nodded and continued on his journey.

* * *

"_Why_?" Ziva screamed at the God she wasn't sure had ever listened to her. "Why do you take _everything_ I love? You take Shai. You take Tali. You take Mother. You take Ari. Do you not have enough Davids already?!" She stopped and took a shuddering breath. "Fine, you took Chayyim. It is not the first time you have taken the man I loved. But you could not have left me Calev?! Eh, Adonai? You could not at least have left me _him_?!"

Gasping to regain her breath when the grief seemed to drown her, Ziva cried out, "Oh, God, not Calev!" and slid to the ground, unable to contain her sobs. Faintly, she heard the doors to Autopsy open and close. "Not Calev…"

It was a little disturbing to see Ziva so… broken. Quietly, Tony closed the door and advanced, sitting down next to her. "Ziva?" he asked softly, reaching to pull her into a comforting hug. "Ziva, I'm sorry."

* * *

Ziva looked up for a moment, and in that moment, Tony knew the ugly truth: he couldn't pretend. He couldn't pretend that what they had shared that night was nothing but hormones, physical satisfaction. He couldn't pretend that he could continue his life the way it had been. Couldn't pretend that her pain and grief at losing their child meant nothing to him

He couldn't pretend that he didn't love her. That he hadn't always loved her, in some way or form. That their banter hadn't always that had underlying tension, that their undercover mission hadn't been one of the most frustrating nights of his life. That he hadn't purposely baited her that day, while they played their parts, until they were both so wound up by the time they had arrived back at the hotel that night, neither could resist.

Tony let her rest her head against his shoulder, wrapping his arms around her shaking body tenderly.


	5. D'une mère à l'autre

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the NCIS characters.

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* * *

**_

Chapter 4: D'une mère à l'autre 

_**(From One Mother To Another)**_

Tony waited until Ziva had left Autopsy before he pulled open the door to his son's final resting place.

The little boy he'd never known seemed to him to be every little part Ziva : from his dark curls to his dark skin. As Tony reached out to touch Calev's face, he registered how soft the child's skin was: like pure satin. Despite his best efforts, Tony felt the tears well up and his throat choke with unreleased sobs.

This was ridiculous. How could it hurt this much to lose a little boy he'd only met unofficially once? A little boy who was never intended to come into being?

Could a person's heart break a thousand times at once?

* * *

Ziva swiped at her tears halfheartedly as she made her way towards lock-up. Doctor Jeanne Benoit and Officer Ziva David were going to have a discussion, _mère à mère_. And if Jeanne didn't want to have that discussion, it was too bad for her. What did the Americans say… she had a brain to pick.

"Ziva, where are you going?" McGee called as she passed the bullpen.

"I have a brain to pick, McGee," Ziva replied tersely.

"Um, I think you mean 'a bone'," McGee said as he dashed to catch up with his old teammate.

"What about bones, McGee?"

"The expression is that 'you have a bone to pick'," McGee repeated. "Not a brain, a bone."

"Can you not pick a brain as well?" Ziva asked.

"Well, um, yeah, you can, but that's in the more curiosity aspect. Like Abby picking Gibbs' brain for clues about her birthday present. In this context, you mean… 'a bone… to pick'," McGee trailed off uneasily. "Sorry, I –"

"Maybe so," Ziva conceded. "But I have a brain to pick as well."

* * *

"Why?" Ziva asked Jeanne as the two young women stared at each other from opposite walls of Jeanne's holding room. "Why did you do it?"

"I don't know," Jeanne said quietly. "I was… angry. Feeling threatened."

"So you killed my child," Ziva said bluntly.

"I…" Jeanne trailed off.

"You took advantage of a tragedy," Ziva continued. "What would you have done if they hadn't attacked the college?" She paused. "How did you find out in the first place?"

"Tony," Jeanne admitted. "He had a file out on the office desk. He'd been acting strange all weekend, I wanted to know why." She sighed. "But even if I hadn't snooped through the file, I would've known to see him. He looked like Tony, and he looked like you, and I couldn't stand it."

"That has to be the worst excuse I have ever heard," Ziva said coldly. Feeling the tears begin to prick at her eyelids again, she managed to gather her nerves long enough to step forward, until she and Jeanne were face-to-face. Then she raised her hand, and slapped Jeanne so hard the young doctor actually crashed back into the wall. "I hope you die," she hissed.

* * *

Ziva managed to keep it together until she was out of the holding room, down the hall and hidden behind the stairs leading up to the director's office and MTAC. Then she started to break down again, sliding to the ground. On the other side of the stairway, she heard one of Tony's daughters laughing with him, and it felt like her entire world had come crashing down around her.

Had she not been a good enough mother? Why had she not taken Calev with her this morning when she left for NCIS? Why had she left him with Chayyim instead of keeping him with her?

Somewhere in the buried, practical part of her mind, Ziva knew she was blaming herself needlessly. But the Ziva who had lived, ate, drank, slept, breathed for Calev was forefront. The Ziva she had been for the last three years, the Ziva who had discovered that there was more to life than Mossad.

The Mossad officer in her was disgusted. Had she not been trained to ignore her emotions, to keep everything locked away lest she show an ounce of weakness? She should know better. She should know that she couldn't show grief, couldn't shed tears in public.

Ziva wrapped her arms around herself protectively, already missing the warm, soft, familiar weight of Calev cuddling with her.

"Ziva?" came Gibbs' quiet voice. "Ziva, what are you still doing here?" Without any hesitation, he came up and pulled her into a comforting, knowing hug. "You should be away from here right now," he said softly, gently pulling her towards the elevators. "Come on, I'll take you back to my place for tonight."

"No, no, I want to stay with him," Ziva said, her voice frantic and distraught as she pulled away. "He gets frightened in the dark if I am not nearby…"

"Come on, Ziva," Gibbs said patiently, gently but firmly steering her away from the morgue. "It'll get harder yet."

"How?" she asked pitifully. "How can it hurt any more than it already does?"

"The day after the funeral," Gibbs replied, his own voice shaking slightly, "when you wake up alone and search the house. And then you realize that the last week hasn't been a nightmare and they won't be coming back."

* * *

Tony watched Gibbs and Ziva leave, hoisting Melanie up onto his shoulders.

"She's really taking it bad, isn't she?" McGee said quietly, rocking Alexa's carrier back and forth.

"Gee, probie, let's think for a second," Tony said sarcastically. "Her boyfriend has just been blown up by white supremacists, my wife has just killed her son…"

"I know, but this is _Ziva _we're talking about…"

"Ziva's human just like the rest of us, McGee," Tony said grimly.

"Yeah, and you would know that better than the rest of us, wouldn't you?" McGee said callously. Tony head-slapped him.

"Shut up, probie."

"Agent Gibbs! Ziva!" came Director Shepard's voice from the stairs. Gibbs and Ziva both stopped, and the entire team turned around to look at her.

* * *

"Oh, dear God, not now…" Ziva muttered under her breath in Hebrew as she saw her father standing next to Director Shepard.

Director David wasted no time in getting over to his wayward daughter. Then, as the NCIS agents looked on in astonishment, Ziva seemed to try to pull herself together when he struck her across the face. "These Americans…" he said in contempt. "They have ruined you. Made you useless to Mossad."

Ziva said quietly, "You were the one who threw me from the doors, Director. Both when Ari died and when I returned."

"I cannot have _metzada_ with a family, particularly with a bastard child," Director David replied coldly. "Do not make me retrain you, Ziva. You have a mission to accomplish. Where is the boy, I will disp –"

He was cut off by Ziva slamming him against the wall, her knife hovering dangerously close to his throat. The other Mossad officers gathered in the bullpen of NCIS seemed rooted to the spot in shock as the confrontation they'd known for years was coming finally happened. "You leave my son alone!" she hissed angrily. "Do not make the same mistake with me as you did with Ari." With that, she released her father and entered the elevator.

"And what would that be, Ziva?" Director David demanded.

"Underestimating him," Ziva replied coolly. "Mistaking where his loyalties laid."

* * *

Ziva took a deep breath of the hot, dry air of her homeland. Already, D.C. and its tragedies and memories seemed distant.

She had buried Calev this morning. Chayyim's family would bury him shortly. Then she would have to face going back to their home alone. So completely alone.

"Ziva?" came the gentle voice of Chayyim's sister Shira from behind her. "Ziva, you _are_ coming to the funeral?"

Ziva sighed and then pulled up the scarf which had covered her head this morning, and would cover it again this afternoon. "Yes."

Shira watched Ziva with compassion in her eyes. Shira reminded Ziva so much of Tali. "My brother loved you," she said quietly. "He worried about you when you would wake up with those nightmares. He loved you, and he thought of Calev as his own."

Ziva gave Shira a grateful smile. "Thank you, Shira."

* * *

The decision came a month after the attack. The negotiation had ended: Jeanne Benoit would be tried for deliberate malpractice in Israel, in exchange for opening Mossad's resources for NCIS to track down the Carlesburg sons.

On the eve before Jeanne was to be deported, Tony left the girls with Abby and went to see his wife one last time.

"Five minutes, no more," the guard said. Tony nodded and entered the silent, dark room.

"Jeanne?" he asked quietly. There was no answer. "Jeanne." Frowning, Tony flipped on the lights and strangled back a yell.

* * *

"Tony," McGee started to say sympathetically, when Tony interrupted.

"She took the coward's way out," he said bluntly, closing his eyes in momentary pain as Ducky and Palmer removed the body from the holding room. "Knew that there was no way in hell she was getting out of a death penalty in Israel."

"We don't know that for sure," McGee objected.

"McGee, just think about it for a second," Tony said sharply. "Trained doctor. 3-year-old child. Deliberate malpractice. The fact it was a non-Jewish doctor and a Jewish child just makes it even worse. Add that with the fact she showed up at the scene of an anti-Semitic bombing… I'm not even entirely sure that D.C. wouldn't have given her the death penalty too."

"She could've just been sentenced to life, Tony," McGee offered.

"Where she gets offed by the inmates," Tony countered darkly. "Even the hardened criminals don't take well to child murderers. And that's if Mossad doesn't pick her off before she gets to the prison."

* * *

Ziva opened the door of her house, the faintly musty, abandoned smell hitting her immediately. She closed the door, but didn't lock it.

Venturing a brief glance in the mirror in the living room, Ziva registered just how awful she looked: dark circles under her eyes, face pale, eyes red and puffy from tears, stray locks of hair escaping from her scarf.

Tightening her jaw, Ziva took one good, long look at herself and then turned away. Heading to the linen closet, she took out a pile of sheets. Exactly what she was doing, she didn't fully realize until she had finished covering every mirror, closing every curtain, turning off every light.

Ironic. She, who had abandoned most of her people's religion, was going to at least pretend to sit _shiva_.

* * *

Ziva didn't know how long she sat there in the dark, in the silence, before he entered.

"Come now, Ziva, surely you won't sit here in the dark while there are murders to catch?" he said gently, a light teasing edge in his voice. "This isn't the Ziva I remember."

"The Ziva you remember died when she was 12," Ziva replied quietly.

"No, no, I remember a more recent Ziva than that," he replied, gently pulling up Ziva's face to look at him. "If my memory serves me correctly, the Ziva I remember could fire at the brother of an old friend and never flinch."

Ziva laughed shortly. "That brother, Youssef, took the first shot."

"There's a girl," he laughed. "Come, Ziva. Catch these jackals for your sisters. For your son." He paused. "For Daoud."

"You should leave, Youssef," Ziva said suddenly, even as she pulled her hair back from her face and let Youssef pull her to her feet. "It doesn't look good for either one of us if you're caught here. A member of Hamas in a Mossad officer's home?"

"Why, are _you_ under suspicion from Mossad?" Youssef asked worriedly. "You spent a long time in America. Do they think that you've been compromised?"

Ziva sighed, running her hand through her hair. "I don't know anymore, Youssef." She looked at him. "How did we get into this stupid war any way?"

"There are days I wonder, Ziva," Youssef sighed. "A Muslim blows up a Jew,"

"A Jew shoots a Muslim," Ziva sighed again.

"So the Muslims blow up two Jews,"

"And the Jews kill three Muslims."

"Until we all just shoot at each other with no clear reasoning."

"But why did the first Muslim blow up the first Jew?"

"Daoud asked our iman the same question the day he died," Youssef said quietly. "Even the iman had no answer for him."

"Perhaps we should all stop shooting until we figure that out."

Youssef laughed wryly. "You tell Mossad that, and I'll tell Hamas. We'll see who lays down their weapons first."


	6. In Mossad

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the NCIS characters.

* * *

**_Chapter 5: In Mossad_**

Tony sighed as he got Alexa buckled into her car seat. Melanie was already fastened in, bouncing excitedly and laughing. If it was up to him… Tony didn't know exactly what he'd prefer: to accept this assignment from the director and go to Israel, have the chance to see Ziva once more; or to stay at home with his daughters and not have to wrestle with that terrible truth, not have to admit that he missed Ziva, missed her more in the last six months than he'd ever thought he would.

"Daddy, go Nanny!" Melanie shrieked.

"Yes, Melly, you're going to see Nanny for a while," Tony said patiently. God bless mothers, who were more than happy to keep his children for a few weeks while he was away on assignment.

* * *

"Uh, so, boss?" McGee asked as the agents all boarded the airplane. "How are we supposed to communicate with them? None of us speak Hebrew."

"Believe it or not, McGee, they speak English over there," Gibbs replied testily.

Tony bit back a sigh and buckled himself into the seat. Something was telling him it was going to be a very long three weeks.

* * *

"God, it's hot!" McGee groaned as they stepped off the airplane in Tel Aviv.

"_This_?" Gibbs asked. "This is pleasant. Wait until you've spent three months in combat camos and a tent in the middle of the Iraqi desert. Then you'll know hot."

Tony still remained silent, looking around for the Mossad officer who was supposed to be meeting them. Finally, he spotted Officer ben-Mordechai standing by a vehicle. "There's our ride, boss," he said.

"ben-Mordy!" Gibbs called.

"Agent Gibbs, wonderful to see you again!" Danyiel called back with a slight smile that told him it was more pleasantry than genuine delight. "I'm sorry that your settling-in will have to wait, agents. Deputy Director David would like all hands on board."

"On deck," Tony said automatically. "It's 'all hands on deck'."

"You Americans and your idioms…" Danyiel muttered.

* * *

"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, I assume?" the deputy director asked, stepping forward from the gathering of Mossad officers in the squad room. Or at least the NCIS agents assumed it was the squad room. "Deputy Director Shmuel David."

"We've met, Deputy Director," Gibbs returned without a trace of a smile.

"Ah, yes, you're the unfortunate American soul that was saddled with Ziva," David said carelessly. "Tell me, Agent Gibbs, was she as insufferable to you as she is to me?"

"If you'll just point us to our workspace, Deputy Director, we'll be out of your way," Gibbs replied pointedly.

"I thought you might prefer to sit in on our briefing," David said. "Seeing as it concerns the Carlesburg family." He waved over a young woman, no older than 20, 21, from the group of officers and ordered something abruptly in Hebrew. She nodded without a word spoken and turned to the NCIS agents.

"I am to be your translator," she said quietly. The agents looked at her momentarily – the young woman had a deep scar marring the side of her face, which cut down into her throat, and her slim hands shook slightly, the fingers scarred with burns.

"Agent Gibbs," Gibbs said, holding out his hand. "You are?"

"Officer Williams. Rivka Williams," she said. "I hear you are investigating my case."

"Nobody mentioned that you were still alive," McGee said in surprise. "We assumed – "

" – that I had died with Shai?" she said knowingly. "Yes, people tend not to speak of it. The scars speak for themselves." She waved a hand ironically at her face, then snapped back to attention when David snapped something at her.

"Is he always this short with – "

"Female officers? Yes," Rivka replied wryly. "The man is very Orthodox in some ways, one of which being that women do not fight men's battles. All right, right now he is bringing the rest of the officers up to speed on another open case."

"And yet his daughter's an assassin," Gibbs said dryly.

"Only because the director himself is a liberal man," Rivka said with a slight laugh. "Director Sachar likes Ziva. She is more efficient than the other five _metzada_ put together. Now he is speaking of the Carlesburg case." She paused. "Emil Carlesburg has just been spotted in Jerusalem. The _metzada_ have all been dispatched except for the one called 'Desert Rose', who is currently involved in another target. Desert Rose has been out of contact with Mossad for about three weeks now," she added as an aside.

"Compromised?" Tony asked.

"We do not know," Rivka replied. "The _metzada_ operate independently from the rest of the agency. Ziva is the only one who actually works for Mossad. They receive the assignment from the director, and they report back to the director when the task is accomplished. They are always in and out of Mossad, out of contact for weeks, even months at a time… Deputy Director David is now explaining to the officers what NCIS is doing at Mossad. Ordering them to stay out of your way and cooperate with any questions you may have to the fullest of capabilities."

* * *

How did women live with this?, Ziva wondered as she resisted the urge to rip the _niqab_ from her head and walked rapidly down the streets of Tel Aviv. She had always been irritated enough with the headscarf her father had made her don for Shabbat as a young girl, and that had been loose and left her face uncovered.

In one fashion, she supposed she should be grateful for the covering. It hid her face from the public, concealed her weapons from sight and allowed her to pass almost unnoticed in the Muslim quarters. She was walking a fine line at the moment, and was so convinced that Hamas, or worse yet Al-Qaeda, was onto her that she hadn't dared contact Mossad.

She hadn't even attempted to contact Youssef, which was dangerous to say the least. Even when she was with NCIS, she had had weekly contact with him. Mossad would not begin to wonder where she was for at least five more months. But Youssef… there was no telling what he would do when he began to search for her.

She stopped at a roadside vendor when she spotted Youssef striding purposefully down the other side of the street. She groaned internally when he turned abruptly and entered Mossad headquarters.

Men were such idiots sometimes…

Then she saw her target.

* * *

A voice was shouting in Arabic. Tony turned around to spot a Muslim man who looked to be not much older than himself pacing around the entrance of Mossad headquarters. He didn't claim to understand Arabic, but he could swear he heard the name 'Ziva David' keep repeating itself. Or maybe he was losing it.

"One moment," Rivka excused herself. She walked over to the man, inquired something politely.

He spat something vicious back at her, and Gibbs stepped forward.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked dangerously.

The man turned to Gibbs, and with a heavily accented voice, said, "I search Ziva David. Has she been in contact with your office?" the man demanded. "It has been three weeks since our last contact."

"Your name and why you are in contact with our officer?" Rivka asked warily. "You are not Mossad."

"No," the man replied. "My name is Youssef Chabbaz. I am Hamas. I come unarmed," he added quickly as Rivka and the NCIS crew immediately drew their weapons. "Unarmed and without a bomb vest. Go ahead and check if you wish." Tony stepped forward and quickly patted him down.

"He's clean," he said with a nod.

"I come solely out of concern for Ziva," Youssef said. "This is most unusual for her."

"What does Hamas want with Officer David?" Rivka asked.

"Have you never wondered why Ziva is always the first to know of Hamas attacks?" Youssef asked.

"I am going to have to ask you to leave the building, Chabbaz," Rivka said briskly. "We cannot divulge Officer David's whereabouts, nor any information relating to her current assignment. If you will not leave peacefully, you will be escorted out."

* * *

Just as Gibbs, Tony, McGee and Rivka were preparing to leave for the day, the doors of Mossad swung open again and a woman dressed in a very covering Muslim dress strode in. The headdress which hid her face made it impossible to determine the age of the woman. The front of the garment was soaked in blood and small droplets of blood were marking her trail.

Rivka called out what NCIS was sure was some kind of reprimand, and the woman stopped, one bloody hand reaching up to pull down the scarf covering her face. "Ziva!" she exclaimed in surprise.

* * *

"As you can see, Rivka, I need to go clean up before I see the director," Ziva called back, not noticing the three men behind her young colleague.

She disappeared into the washroom and hurriedly pulled the _niqab_ off, thanking God that it was finally off. Sighing, she threw the offending garment into the trash and began to wash the blood off her hands and her knife. Once they were cleaned, she dried the knife and sheathed it. Exiting the washroom, she quickly disappeared upstairs before any more people could notice her return.

She knocked at the director's door, waiting until she heard him call, "Enter!"

"Shalom, director," she greeted quietly.

"Shalom, Ziva," Director Sachar said amiably. "Your target was completed, I assume?"

"Yes," Ziva replied.

"Everything as ordered?" he asked.

"Yes," Ziva said. "Exactly as ordered. Director, I do not think that this was such a good idea, to leave markings on the targets."

"Your father wants Hamas to know that we are onto them. That we know who they are."

"If I may be so bold, they will be able to track us, Director," Ziva objected. "Every Hamas officer that we target will lead them one step closer to the _metzada_ who killed them. It will not take them long to figure out who is _metzada_, and then civilians will be at risk. The families of the other _metzada_. Their friends and colleagues in their civilian jobs."

"Note taken, Officer David," Sachar replied. "Go home. Get some sleep. I'll expect you back here at 0500 tomorrow."

"Yes, director," Ziva said with a sigh. "What am I working on now?"

"You're working with Rivka," Sachar answered. "We have some international liaisons at Mossad working on the Carlesburg case."

* * *

As Ziva left the director's office, she sighed and pushed her hair out of her face again. She wanted to go home, have a shower and sleep.

"Ziva," came her father's voice from beside her as he drew up to her.

"Yes, Deputy Director?" she asked coolly.

"Ahava would like you to take her out to search for a new dress tonight," Shmuel replied.

"Very well," Ziva said. "I will pick her up at 7."

* * *

Ziva stifled a yawn as she pulled up in front of her childhood home, taking another sip of her tea. Hopefully the strong, dark brew would be enough to keep her awake until she was back home.

"Shalom, Ziva," 12-year-old Ahava said cheerfully as she jumped into the passenger seat. She gave her older sister a tight hug.

"Shalom, pet," Ziva replied with a laugh, returning the hug. "So? Where to?"

"Oh, I just told Father that I wanted a new dress so that he would let me go," Ahava said brightly. "I just wanted to go out with my sister. You look exhausted, Ziva," she added, a twinge of worry in her voice.

Ziva smiled and patted her sister's cheek lightly. "You are too young to worry about me, Ahava. I arrived in Tel Aviv this afternoon. I am only a little tired. Do you want to go to the café?"

* * *

Ziva slowly set down her cup when she saw them. She said quietly, "Ahava, we are going."

"But why?" Ahava asked. "We have only just arrived…"

Oh, to be 12 again. To not know just how dark and deep the waters of the souls of mankind ran. To naively believe that friendship and love could clear all obstacles. To trust that monsters were a fictional creation. To sit in a café in her hometown and not feel hunted, threatened. To have such a clear-cut view on wrong and right. Mossad was good. Hamas was bad. Al-Qaeda was worse than Hamas. If people were killed, it meant they done something wrong...

"Ahava, we are going," Ziva replied firmly.

She fairly dragged Ahava out of the café, succeeding in clearing the area just as the Hamas suicide bomber blew himself and the café up.


	7. Rekindling Fires

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anybody from NCIS.

* * *

**_Chapter 6: Rekindling Fires_**

Ziva dropped off Ahava with a quick reassurance and then drove home.

She opened the door of her apartment, dropped her keys carelessly onto the counter. Shedding her jacket, she hung it over the edge of a chair and closed the apartment door.

"So you finally came home," came Tony's voice from the shadows of the living room, and instinctively Ziva whirled around, gun drawn and cocked. "Whoa! Calm down, Ziva, it's just me."

"What are you doing here, Agent DiNozzo?" Ziva asked with a sigh, putting away her gun.

"Waiting for you," Tony replied easily.

"No, what are you doing in Tel Aviv?" Ziva clarified, flipping on lights to distract herself.

"Working the Carlesburg case," Tony answered.

"Oh, so NCIS is the 'international liaisons'," Ziva said, opening the fridge door to look for something to drink. "Funny that Director Sachar did not mention that part. I thought perhaps the French…" She found a carton of juice that still seemed to be mostly full and poured some out into a glass.

"Nope. Definitely not French," Tony said easily. "So you didn't seem to find it pertinent to tell us that Rivka was alive."

"Are you here to interrogate me, Agent DiNozzo?" Ziva asked in exasperation. "Because if you are, you can leave. Ask me tomorrow. I am exhausted…"

"No, not here to interrogate," Tony said quickly. "Here to, um, talk to you. But not about work."

"Really?" Ziva asked sceptically.

"Listen, Ziva, I screwed up, okay?" Tony said finally. "I screwed up really badly."

"How did you find me here?" Ziva interrupted.

"I had your old address in my file," Tony said quietly. "The people who live in that house now gave me the forwarding address."

"Yes, why _do_ you have a file on me?" Ziva asked dangerously, sitting up on her countertop and beginning to clean her gun.

"Well, uh…" Tony trailed off uneasily. "Uh, Ziva, can you put the firearm away? I'm really not feeling safe with that thing out."

"You _ought_ to feel unsafe right now," Ziva replied. "Actually, you ought to count your blessings, because any other intruder in my home would have been shot by now."

"And I appreciate your show of restraint, really," Tony said. "Don't get me wrong, I just… I know I'm going to screw this up too, and I don't want to be shot."

"I would not shoot you, Tony," she said quietly, her concentration focusing even more on the gun in her hand.

"Good, we're making headway. At I'm not angry-Ziva-voice 'Agent DiNozzo' anymore," Tony mumbled. "Just out of curiosity, why wouldn't you shoot me?"

Ziva was silent for a long time. Then she set down the gun, looked at him and replied, "Because I could never shoot the man who gave me Calev."

Their gazes remained locked for what seemed like eternity, until Tony bridged the space between them and kissed her lightly, tentatively. Slowly, her arms slid up and around his shoulder, as he lifted her from the counter and set her back on the ground.

"You _do_ know you taste like gunpowder," Tony rasped, trying to pull off her shirt without breaking contact.

"I don't doubt," Ziva breathed in return, undoing his buttons.

"Should we really be doing this?" Tony asked.

"No."

"So maybe we should… stop…" he trailed off as her fingers skimmed his chest.

"No…" Ziva murmured, pulling him back towards the bedroom.

* * *

_"Tali, what you are doing is dangerous," 22-year-old Ziva pleaded with her sister. "Tali, you know how Father will react if he finds out."_

_"Ziva, will you cover for me or not?" 16-year-old Tali asked impatiently. "Please, Ziva… I am not Ari. I am not you. I am not meant to be one of his favourites. _Please_, just let me have this freedom."_

_Ziva watched her younger sister for a moment, then said quietly, "You must really love Khalil, to risk Father's wrath like this."_

_"So you will cover for me?"_

_"Yes," Ziva relented, smiling slightly as Tali squealed and threw her arms around her older sister. "Hush, do you want to wake Ahava?" she hissed, pointing in the direction of their little 4-year-old sister sleeping soundly across the room._

_"Ohevet otcha, Ziva, you are the most wonderful sister in Israel," Tali laughed as she went back to her own bed, eyes sparkling._

_Ziva just shook her head._

* * *

Ziva awoke with a jump, breathing deep to calm herself. Once she thought she was sufficiently calmed, she nestled in a little deeper against his side, craving the reassuring solidity of human life.

For a while, she lay still there, tracing light circles on his chest, watching his peaceful face as he slept. It hadn't even been ten years since Tali's death. And it seemed so ironic to her, that the first of them to truly understand love had been the first to die before ever getting to live that love.

Tony stirred just then and Ziva stopped her tracing, instead laying her head down on his shoulder and quickly falling asleep again.

* * *

Tony was awakened by the faint sensation of her fingertips trailing over his chest. When the tracing stopped and he felt her head return to its comfortable position against his shoulder, he chanced opening his eyes.

He could feel the way her body still shook slightly, even as he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her securely against him. So he held her close, putting one hand over the one of hers that lay on his chest.

She murmured something drowsily in Hebrew. Not having a clue what she had said, he whispered, "Goodnight, Ziva."

And as he, too, fell back into sleep, he realized that she didn't snore when she slept like this.

* * *

"Tony," she murmured as she peeled herself away from his side reluctantly at 3:45 AM. "Tony, wake up."

Tony mumbled, "… ungodly hour… not until 0700…"

"At NCIS, Tony," she replied, sitting up. "Mossad starts at 0500."

"… crazy Israeli chick…"

"I will make you breakfast if you get up now," Ziva teased.

"… 0700…" Tony mumbled again.

Why was she doing to herself again, Ziva asked herself as she stepped beneath the shower spray. Why was she letting herself get all wrapped up in some fantasy?

Taking a deep breath of the humid air, she quickly washed and stepped out, drying off. As she wrapped the towel around herself and went to find some clothes, she saw that Tony was groping blindly for his cell phone, which was ringing insistently. Sighing as déjà vu hit her, she went to pick up the phone, flipped it open and handed it to him.

"D'n'zo," Tony grumbled sleepily, eyes still fluttering as he struggled to rouse himself. "It's 0345, boss…"

_"Tell you what, DiNozzo,"_ Gibbs said sternly. _"You get to Mossad by 0500, and I won't ask where you were all night."_

"On it, boss." Tony closed the phone and groaned, flipping onto his back as Ziva tossed his clothes at him. "God, he's worse than a mother…"

"Up, Tony," Ziva ordered quietly. "Do you have a car here?"

"God, no," Tony groaned again. "They all drive like you in this crazy city. I cabbed it and now I'm broke."

Ziva sighed. "Fine, I will give you a ride this morning. You will be riding in the back, because I have to pick up Rivka as well. We leave in thirty minutes, Tony."

* * *

"Do I… want to know?" Rivka asked warily as she slid into the passenger seat and noticed Tony dozing in the back.

"No," Ziva replied calmly. "It will kill your poor kosher brain."

"All right."

* * *

"Amazing," McGee commented as he and Gibbs walked into Mossad to see Tony listlessly sorting through papers. "He actually made it."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "He had help, McGee." He jerked a thumb briefly towards where Ziva and Rivka were deep in discussion over a file of some sort.

Tony looked up from his work, waving a sleepy hand at his colleagues. " 'Lo, boss," he called. "I made it."

Gibbs cracked the slightest hint of a smile and shook his head. "What are you working on, DiNozzo?"

"Tran-tran-transcripts from an informant interrogation," Tony yawned, passing a file to each of them.

"And?" McGee asked, opening his up. "Find anything useful?"

"That I _really_ do not want to be the poor soul interrogated by this 'Desert Rose'," Tony cracked, though semi-seriously. "Other than that, nothing of much use to our case."

"Keep working, we're not here on vacation, boys," Gibbs sighed. "Ziva! Rivka!" The two young women looked up briefly, then returned to their conversation. "Hello!" he called again, a touch of irritation in his voice.

"Uh, boss?" Tony said. "You're not at NCIS. They don't have to jump to your every command on their own turf."

"DiNozzo, do you have something _useful_ to do?" Gibbs asked curtly, and Tony quickly returned to his reading. Gibbs strode over to where Ziva and Rivka were standing and head-slapped them both.

Rivka let out a startled yell and pulled her sidearm. Ziva, on the other hand, merely gave him a questioning look and ordered something to Rivka in Hebrew. Rivka put away her weapon.

"In case you've forgotten, Officer David, that means 'come'," he said pointedly.

"In case _you_ have forgotten, Special Agent Gibbs," Ziva replied dangerously, "I do not work for NCIS. I do not have to follow your orders."

* * *

By the end of the days, tensions were running high in Mossad. From what Rivka and Ziva had told NCIS, the Carlesburg op was a complete and utter failure.

"0500 tomorrow," Ziva said shortly, picking up her jacket and starting to leave. Tony started to get up in order to follow her, only to have Gibbs stop him.

"Number 12, DiNozzo," he warned. "You've already broken it twice."

"Technically she's not a coworker, boss," Tony offered. Gibbs eyed him a moment and then head-slapped him. "Sorry, boss."

"She was the first time," Gibbs replied. Then he sighed and backed off. "Don't get too involved, Tony," he said quietly. "We're not here indefinitely."

Tony nodded and dashed for the elevator as it began to close.

* * *

"What are you doing in here, Tony?" Ziva asked calmly.

"Well, I appear to be following you home like a lost puppy, Ziva," Tony replied into her ear as he leaned against the wall, his lips brushing against her cheek.

"Tony…" she sighed, even as her stomach began to twist into painful knots of desire. "Tony, why are you doing this to me?"

"Well, maybe because I… miss you," Tony said, nuzzling into her face affectionately. "Maybe because we started off on all the wrong feet…"

"All right, all right, stop it!" Ziva exclaimed, pulling away from him. "We will discuss this at home, yes?"

"I can wait," Tony said with a slight grin.

* * *

They had barely entered the apartment when Ziva's phone began to ring. Sighing, Tony sank down onto the couch to wait as Ziva started a rapid conversation in Arabic. When she had finally finished and had hung up the phone, Ziva dropped down to the couch beside him, rubbing her temples wearily.

"Come here," Tony said indulgently, pulling her into a hug. "Tell Doctor DiNozzo what's wrong, and he'll fix it for you."

"Your jokes will not fix this, Tony," Ziva sighed, allowing him to take her with him as he stretched out on the couch. "Nobody can fix this."

* * *

As he watched her sleep that night, he thought about what she had said. What had she done that was so terrible it couldn't be fixed with the right words to the right people?

Ziva stirred just then, nestled her head a little deeper into his shoulder and murmured sleepily, "_Toda_, Tony."

"You're welcome, Ziva," he murmured in return, lightly rubbing the exposed skin of the small of her back.

* * *

She dreamt of bombs that night. 12-year-old suicide bombers whose bright eyes and laughter still echoed in her mind, whose taunts and jokes still swirled in her memories, and whose frightened and apologetic eyes still haunted her dreams in those last moments before she had run and he had died.

She dreamt of brothers seeking retribution for their brother's misled decisions, of sisters seeking revenge for their sisters' demise. An 18-year-old girl whose life, whose family had fallen apart, whose mother had committed one of the most unforgivable sins in the Jewish law when she had killed herself and left her 22-year-old to be the sole emotional support for the ones who remained behind. A father who could barely stand to be around his daughters, though they had tried as hard as they could to earn his respect and approval. A half-brother used by his estranged father to infiltrate Hamas and who had betrayed his flesh and blood. A small brother, the legitimate son at last, hidden away lest he be the target of a Hamas attack.

She dreamt of innocent children whose cries of pain still needled at her in her sleep. Ravaged little girls, blown-up teenage lovers and a slain little boy. The sounds of their laughter, the childlike trust and adoration, the way they made three simple words sound like the most precious treasure in the world.

She dreamt of the monsters who preyed on the innocent, and of Mossad officers who mingled with the devil himself.

* * *

Ziva set down the folder she was examining when she sensed their presence behind her. "Yes, officers?" she asked calmly, turning around.

"Come with us, please, Officer David," one man, whom Ziva recognized as one of the interrogators, said.

"Ziva, I need your help with some…" Rivka began to say, then trailed off as she recognized the men escorting Ziva down the hallway.

"Officer David is occupied, Officer Williams," the second man said curtly, as he and the third tightened their hold on her arms. The fourth opened the doors to the interrogation hallway, and Ziva knew at that moment what would happen once those doors closed.

Her cover was blown.


	8. Code Name Daoud

DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS.

* * *

**_Chapter 7: Code Name Daoud_**

"Hey, where'd Ziva go?" McGee asked a few hours later.

"Good question, probie," Tony said, looking around. "Hey, Rivka!" he called, tossing a balled-up piece of paper at her. "Where's Ziva?"

"I do not know," Rivka replied carefully. "She is my keeper, I am not hers." Her eyes never leaving her report, she picked up the paper and dropped it into the wastebasket beside her.

"What senior field agent leaves their probie alone on a mission, probie?" Tony asked in his I'm-the-senior-field-agent voice.

"Um, none, Tony," McGee answered promptly.

"Exactly," Tony replied. "So, Officer Williams," he said as he got up from his chair. "How about you try that answer again?"

"She is on Mossad business," Rivka replied evasively, continuing to read her report.

"So what's so interesting about this report, Officer Williams?" Gibbs asked as he joined Tony.

"Intel report on a Mossad case," Rivka replied distractedly. "Severely restrained, need-to-know basis only."

"Restricted," McGee corrected. "It's _restricted_, not restrained."

Gibbs looked up as faint sounds began to drift out from the hallway that seemed to be closed to the general public. "Do you hear that?" he asked, starting to head down towards the doors.

"That's off-limits to unauthorized personnel!" Rivka said suddenly, nearly jumping out of her chair.

"What's down there that's so highly valuable?" Tony asked interestedly, joining his boss.

"Sounds like…"

"Like Abby's lab," Tony breathed. "Except in Hebrew."

Rivka stepped in front of them firmly and clearly gestured them back to their desks. "That would be our interrogation wing. The music muffles the screams."

* * *

Ziva gasped for breath when he released her throat, trying again to extricate herself from her bindings and failing. "I have nothing to tell you," she rasped, instinctively jumping away from him when he lunged at her again.

"Like hell you don't!" he hissed, striking her across the face with his studded glove.

Ziva couldn't stop the scream of pain that escaped as the knuckles scraped her face raw. "I have nothing to say!"

"You gave out valuable Mossad intelligence to Hamas and Al-Qaeda!" he snarled.

"No!" Ziva cried out again. "Only false intelligence, always false!" Another scream escaped as he struck the other side of her face.

"You collaborated with the Al-Qaeda operatives who bombed Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem yesterday when the _metzada_ went to capture Emil Carlesburg! You gave them names, positions, times!"

"How could I?" Ziva demanded through the blood flowing from her mouth. "I did not return from my own target until after they had been briefed and deployed!"

"Are you telling me that the famous Ziva David does not have some form of communication from inside Mossad?" he taunted, shedding the gloves and unsheathing his knife. "Perhaps you are losing your touch, Officer David. You left so many obvious signs." Almost carelessly, he drew his knife under the collar of her shirt and ripped it apart. "The leak's code name – Daoud. Arabic for David. The name of your old friend. Hamas operative Youssef Chabbaz – coincidently the brother of Daoud – showed up in Mossad two days ago demanding your location. He said he had lost contact with you. You are more consistent in your communications with Hamas and Al-Qaeda than you are with Mossad." The tip of his knife pricked a small hole in her shoulder and he pulled it across her collarbone.

Ziva took one look at the malice in his eyes, and she knew: she wasn't getting out of this alive.

* * *

"Director Sachar?" Gibbs said, opening the door to the director's office. "Can I have a word?"

"Certainly, Special Agent Gibbs," Director Sachar replied, setting aside his papers and beckoning him inside. "I just got off the phone with Director Shepard. She would like to know how NCIS is finding your accommodations. She said to tell you that it is not quite Paris, but she tried."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, remembering the little attic they had shared in Paris all those years ago. "Actually, I was going to request an MTAC transmission with Director Shepard, sir."

"May I ask the reason?" Sachar asked with a frown.

"Officer David seems to have disappeared," Gibbs said. "Officer Williams will only say that's Mossad business."

Sachar's frown deepened. "Ziva has not been assigned any Mossad business. She is supposed to be in headquarters until her next target. I am the only one with any authority to send her out on Mossad business. Deputy Director David does not even have that power."

"What about assignments within headquarters?" Gibbs asked quietly.

"Like interrogation?" Sachar asked knowingly, though his expression was darkening and becoming increasingly worried. "Not in headquarters. We have in-house interrogators. The only time Ziva is called into interrogation is when we are short-staffed, which we are not. And no, Agent Gibbs, nobody else has authority other than me within headquarters. I made it that way purposely. We have had problems in the past when Shmuel was giving her orders."

"This isn't like Ziva, to just disappear without prior authorization," Gibbs said, sitting down in one of the chairs. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't have serious concern for her."

"You are right, Agent Gibbs, this is quite unusual for Ziva," Sachar agreed, punching in a few numbers on his phone. "But she is more than capable of handling herself. So why the concern?"

"My gut," Gibbs said.

* * *

"Officer Williams, you _are_ aware that Ziva's orders come from myself and not Deputy Director David?" Sachar said in Hebrew, addressing the young woman as she stood before him.

"Yes, sir," Rivka replied quietly. "She had no orders from Director David. Four interrogators came and took her to the hall."

"As an assistant?"

"As a suspect."

"A suspect in _what_?" Sachar snapped. "I am Director of Mossad, how do I not know that one of my own people – one of my best no less! – is under suspicion!" He slammed an angry fist on the speed dial. "Shmuel! My office! Immediately!"

* * *

Gibbs watched the scene from the corner of his eye as he continued his conversation with Jenny.

"Doesn't look like Director Sachar is too happy," Gibbs commented.

_"As soon as they locate Ziva, I want you all on the next plane out of Tel Aviv," _Jenny ordered. _"All four of you. Do I make myself clear, Jethro? NCIS is lodging a complaint with Mossad. I spoke to Director Sachar earlier today, as of 9 AM Tel Aviv time, Ziva is a member of NCIS again."_

"Understood, director," Gibbs said. "Mistreatment of an NCIS agent. Cease all contact until a formal apology has been issued."

* * *

"Get them out of interrogation _immediately_, Shmuel!" Sachar roared as David entered the office. "Officer David was transferred to NCIS permanently as of 9 AM!"

"I was not consulted on any such decision, Adnan!" David roared back, as Rivka slowly backed away.

"Last I checked, Shmuel, I did not need your approval to do my job! Rivka! Get those officers away from Ziva and _fast_!"

Rivka nodded and dashed out, nearly crashing into Tony and McGee as she left. The two men did a double take and took off after her.

"She is a traitor and a terrorist sympathizer, Adnan!"

"Do you honestly believe that of Ziva?" Sachar demanded. "Of your own daughter, Shmuel? She is _metzada_, Shmuel, she does what she needs to retrieve her information!"

* * *

"Out!" Rivka yelled desperately as she strode rapidly down the hall. "Aharon! Shlomo! Stop!"

Tony and McGee both had their weapons drawn when Rivka kicked in the door.

Two – no, three – officers surrounded Ziva, who lay still on the floor, bound to a chair which seemed to have tipped over. Blood poured from a gash in her forehead, and as the two young NCIS agents had a flashback of Kate, Rivka fired off a rapid string of pleads to the officers.

"Step away from my agent!" Gibbs' angry roar echoed in the small room. Immediately, the three interrogators skittered out of the way. "Tony, McGee, get her stabilized. NCIS has a jet waiting at the airstrip for us. The Navy medics will treat her on our way back stateside."

"On it, boss!" they said in unison, and both knelt down next to their beloved colleague – yes, neither was afraid to admit that Ziva had grown on them – and began to quickly treat her more serious wounds.

Ziva stirred slightly when Tony tried to stem the bleeding on her front. She said something slurred and indistinct in Hebrew, pulling her head away from McGee when he went to put pressure on her head wound.

"Ziva, calm down," Tony said quietly. "It's us." Ziva repeated whatever she had said earlier.

"Ziva, listen to me," Gibbs said sternly, kneeling down next to her. "I don't understand a word you're saying, so I'm not listening. We're heading back to Washington now. The Navy docs will fix you up on the flight home."

A third time, Ziva repeated her Hebrew phrase. Exasperated, Gibbs turned to Rivka. "What is she saying?"

Rivka stepped forward cautiously, clear suspicion in her eyes. Quietly, she asked Ziva a question, to which she got the repeated answer. Rivka responded.

"Just some Mossad business," Rivka replied briskly, and she left without further word.

* * *

"How long was she in interrogation for?" the head medic asked Gibbs.

Gibbs sighed. "No idea, doc. Last time any of us saw her was in the morning."

"Operate with the assumption she's had at least eight hours, guys," the medic ordered his team.

Gibbs pulled the head medic out of the room, asking quietly, "I have to give our director a progress report, doc. What should I tell her?"

The head medic sighed. "It'll be hit-and-miss. She's suffered a lot physically. Once she's a little more recovered, I would recommend you have her see the NCIS psychiatrist. You said you have no idea of the reasoning behind the torture?"

"Nobody at Mossad would tell us," McGee said, coming up beside Gibbs. "Ziva might be saying that, but none of us speaks Hebrew, so you can see how well _that's _working."

* * *

"We'll come check on her in about an hour, Agent DiNozzo," one of the medics said quietly as they left the room. Tony waited until they had cleared the room before he took one of Ziva's hands.

"What were they doing to you, Ziva?" he asked softly. "Why were your own colleagues torturing you?"

He tightened his grip on her limp hand when he felt it curl slightly around his. He watched as her bloodshot eyes fluttered open and focused somewhat on him. "Hey, there, sweetcheeks," he said teasingly, then let out a whimper of pain when he felt her nails digging into his hand. "All right, all right, I take it back!" he gasped.

"What is going on?" Ziva asked, her voice hoarse, though there was a flicker of laughter in her eyes.

"We're on our way back to Washington," Tony replied quietly. "I'd say Jen is still screaming her face off at Mossad right now."

"Why… why am I going with you?" she asked, struggling to sit up. Tony quickly stopped her. "Let me sit up, Tony."

"Medics said no," he replied. "Do you honestly remember nothing?"

"Oh, I remember everything," she replied grimly. "It is the part where I woke up on a plane going to Washington with Director Shepard screaming at Mossad that I do not know."

"Well, apparently your director and my director confabbed and decided to send you back to NCIS as of earlier this morning," Tony replied nonchalantly, pushing her back down when she attempted again to get up. "So, any way, Gibbs' famous gut got disturbed when you disappeared and he went to talk to the directors. Rivka got chewed out when the fact an internal investigation was being conducted without the director's knowledge came to light. Last we heard, Sachar and David were both getting ripped apart by Jen."

"Clearly Director Shepard missed a memo," Ziva groaned as she gave up and settled back down on her bed. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Where is Gibbs?"

"Oh, I am _hurt_," Tony said in mock outrage. "You want _Gibbs_?"

Ziva gave him a dirty look. "Come closer, Tony," she said. Obediently, Tony leaned in to kiss her, only to be interrupted by a sharp head-slap. "Later, yes?" she said with a slight smirk, her hand returning to the back of his head to pull him in for a light kiss.

"Tony, go check on the flight progress with the pilot," Gibbs ordered as he strode into the room, just after Tony and Ziva had broken the kiss. "Ziva and I have a discussion to hold."

"Boss, I really think that –"

"_Now_, DiNozzo." Gibbs waited until Tony had exited the room before he took the vacated chair, gesturing for Ziva to sit up. "Ziva, I want to know why Mossad was interrogating you. Because the story I'm getting from the directors…"

"They suspect me of leaking information to Hamas and Al-Qaeda," Ziva replied quietly, trying to stop the room from spinning as she braced herself on a side table. "For a wide variety of reasons."

"Any of them true?"

Ziva hesitated. "To a certain degree. I have contacts in both groups who give me intel on their group in exchange for intel on mine. Usually the Mossad intel is false, just as my contacts will give me false information on Hamas and Al-Qaeda."

"But to keep your contacts, who aren't really defectors, you have to give them the correct information every once in a while," Gibbs finished. "That's a dangerous line you're walking, Ziva."

Ziva sighed. "I know, Gibbs. But if there is a true leak in Mossad, it must be another officer. I had not even heard of half the attacks they were accusing me of. There was something about Emil Carlesburg…"

"Before you came back to Mossad, the day we arrived in Tel Aviv, David sent a whole bunch of officers to Jerusalem to capture Emil Carlesburg," Gibbs explained quietly. "Al-Qaeda bombed the ambush, killed all but one of the officers. Emil Carlesburg escaped."

"So I suppose that I am restricted to NCIS when we arrive?" Ziva asked. Gibbs nodded. "Wonderful. Do I get something to do, at least?"

Gibbs grinned and lightly head-slapped her. "Your personnel file. It's that time of year again." There was clear affection in his voice as he watched her face show the slightest hint of a smile.

* * *

"Ziva, my dear, you seem to have made an astoundingly quick recovery," Ducky said as he took another look at the head wound the medics had stitched on the flight home. "No dizziness, no nausea, memory lapses?"

"The dizziness faded over Portugal, Ducky," Ziva replied easily, starting to slide back off of the table. "My mind suffered no ill effects."

"She's been driving us crazy ever since she woke up, Ducky," Tony said. "She seems fine."

"I'd still like to have a CAT scan done, Ziva, just to be safe," Ducky said.

"Ducky, they shredded my face raw, they did not crack my skull!" Ziva exclaimed defensively.

"Ziva, it _did_ look like you took a fall to the ground," Tony said quietly, catching her by the arm when a sprained ankle didn't fully support her weight. "Indulge us overzealous, overprotective men, will you?"

Ziva sighed impatiently. "Fine. But you will pay for it later," she hissed at him under her breath, just as the doors to the autopsy room opened and Abby dashed in.

"Oh! You're back! You're back! You're back!" she squealed, throwing her arms around Tony's neck and then around Ziva's. Ziva flinched without thinking, and Abby backed off immediately. "Sorry, Ziva. God, what did they _do_ to you?"

"You don't want to know, Abby," Ziva replied evasively.

"All right, all right, crazy ninja Israeli girl, you have a CAT scan to undergo," Tony interrupted, steering Ziva back out of the room.

* * *

Ziva tapped her pen on the edge of her desk impatiently as she eyed the papers in disgust. "Paperwork. Desk work." She muttered a few curses in Hebrew under her breath.

"You'd rather be in interrogation back in Tel Aviv, Officer David?" Gibbs asked pointedly as he passed.

"A valid point," Ziva amended darkly. "Still, Gibbs, I –"

"You're going crazy, Ziva, I get it," Gibbs said sharply. "Director Shepard says twenty-four more hours, and then you can leave."

"And go where, Gibbs?" Ziva demanded.

"Ziva, I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt, here," Sachar sighed over the MTAC feed. _"Unless the investigators turn up some irrefutable evidence, you're cleared of all accusations. Be careful. Your father is screaming for your blood."_

"Thank you, Director, I appreciate the gesture," Ziva said.

_"Good heavens, Ziva, they really went at you…" _Sachar said as he seemed to see her face for the first time.

"I know, sir," Ziva replied. "We trained them well."

_"Rivka asked me to pass along her apologies, Ziva, for having doubted you."_ Sachar paused. _"Stay at NCIS, Ziva. Mossad is no longer safe for you."_

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

"So?" Tony asked, as Ziva exited MTAC to Jen and Sachar's quick conversation. "What's the verdict?"

Ziva paused. Then she said, "Does someone have a couch I could sleep on for a while?"

Abby squealed in delight and threw her arms around Ziva again, backing off when Ziva exclaimed, "Abby! Stitches!"

Tony and McGee both grinned at their colleague and Tony adeptly swept her off towards the elevator. "I'll go you one better," he whispered in her ear. "You can sleep in my bed until we're ready to kill each other."

"Really?" Ziva asked coyly. "And how long do you think that will take?"

"I give it a month."

"Two weeks."

* * *

"Mom, _please_ don't lecture me right now," Tony muttered under his breath as he scooped up Melanie from the crib in his mother's spare bedroom.

"All I'm saying, Anthony," his mother began to repeat herself, when Ziva slipped in behind Tony to lift Alexa up into her arms.

"Later, Mom," Tony repeated, watching as Alexa began to stir, fussing slightly in Ziva's arms. "All right, let's head home, Ziva," he said quietly.

* * *

"Oh, God, Alexa, not now," Tony groaned as Alexa awoke and definitely started protesting being put to bed.

"You go put Melanie to sleep, Tony," Ziva replied, nestling Alexa against her front. "I will stay here." As Tony left, still carrying the sleeping Melanie, Ziva cooed gently to Alexa, "Yes, you are just like your brother, no? Asleep all day and awake all night…"

Alexa yawned and curled her tiny fingers around a lock of Ziva's hair.

A ghost of a smile passed over Ziva's face as she began to walk the infant back and forth. It seemed like so long ago that she had been doing exactly this to Calev, barely a fifteen-minute's walk from here…


	9. Return to Tel Aviv

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS or related paraphernalia.

* * *

**_Chapter 8: Return to Tel Aviv_**

Tony bit back a groan as he heard the alarm clock ringing insistently. Burying his head under his pillow, he tried to hit around the general area for the snooze button. "Damn clock… always going off…"

"Come on, Tony, get up now," came Ziva's teasing voice when the alarm turned off. "You have thirty minutes to shower, eat, get the girls to your mother, and be at your desk working before Gibbs arrives."

"No…" Tony moaned, grabbing desperately for the pillow when she pulled it off heartlessly. "Can't be, it's Saturday, it's Saturday…"

"It is Wednesday, Tony, and it is 0630. Get up, or I will personally make your life miserable for the next six months," Ziva said, dropping the teasing tone. A none-too-gentle smack hit his face. "Up. Now."

Tony sat up, rubbing at his face as he blearily tried to focus his vision. "Aren't you going to, any way?"

"Shower," Ziva ordered, shifting Alexa to the other hip.

"Daddy!" came Melanie's giggles as she tore into the room. "Daddy, I free!"

"I can hear that," Tony mumbled as he lifted her up onto the bed with him.

"I _free_, Daddy," Melanie persisted, clambering onto his lap. "No two, free."

"Come, Melanie, leave Daddy alone," Ziva said, holding out her free hand. "He must run like…"

"Like Roadrunner!" Melanie supplied brightly. "Daddy late!"

"Precisely," Ziva laughed. "Daddy is very late."

* * *

"You're late, DiNozzo," Gibbs said without ever looking up.

Tony's face turned midly outraged as Ziva smirked, cuffed him lightly on the back of the head and sat down behind her desk. "But boss," he protested. "I was in before Ziva! She's late too!"

"Ziva would've been on time if she hadn't been pushing and prodding to get _you_ out the door."

Ziva ducked the wad of paper tossed in her direction and sent Tony back a triumphant smirk.

"Ziva, director wants you upstairs right now," Gibbs said. "Some sort of urgent call from Tel Aviv."

Ziva sighed in disgust. "I _really_ wish they would make up their minds on where I am."

* * *

Tony counted how long she was up there. She was gone for thirty-eight minutes. Then she had emerged from the office, only to be called back in by Jen. She was gone again for another twenty-four before she made it back down to the bullpen, grabbed her jacket and began to head for the elevator.

McGee opened his mouth to call after her, when Gibbs gestured for him to keep quiet. Looking at Tony, he gestured with his other hand for Tony go after her.

'_Me?_' Tony mouthed pleadingly, though he was getting up from his chair as he did so.

"She's _your_ wife, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

"Exactly…" Regardless, Tony took off after Ziva, managing to slip inside the elevator just as the doors were closing. "Ziva, what's going on?" he whispered into her ear, her body warm against his. "You can't just walk out and not tell me what's wrong. It doesn't work that way."

Ziva muttered a response in Hebrew, pulling a brief kiss from him.

"And no fair using languages I can't speak," Tony added. "C'mon, tell me what's wrong."

Ziva sighed and rested her forehead against his shoulder. "Once again, my father has screwed up and left me to deal with the aftermath."

"What'd he do now?" Tony asked, rubbing her back.

"Apparently he forgot to arm the alarm system in the house this morning and now Hamas has Ahava and Matai hostage."

"Who?" Tony questioned softly, pushing back a stray lock of her hair.

"My little sister and brother," Ziva replied. "I have to go, Tony," she said pleadingly. "I cannot lose another loved one to Hamas. I cannot…"

"I know, I know," Tony quickly soothed, laying a light kiss on her forehead. "Just promise me no crazy ninja stunts out there, okay?" Briefly, he put a hand on her stomach, still virtually unnoticeable unless you knew it was there. "I want you both back alive."

Ziva nodded quietly, kissing him one last time. "Ohev otach, Tony."

"Ti amo, Ziva," he returned.

* * *

Ziva sighed as she stepped off the plane on Israeli soil once more. It seemed like so long ago, so much longer than three months since she'd last been here.

"Officer David?" came a query from one of the men in the waiting crowd. When she nodded slightly, he showed her his ID. "Commander David Lucovetkin, IDF. Director Sachar asked me to accompany you to Mossad headquarters."

"Has there been any news or progress on locating my sister and brother?" Ziva asked without delay, quickening the pace slightly as they walked towards the waiting car.

"Both Mossad and the military are searching as we speak, Officer David, but the trail is dead."

"I did not come all the way out to Tel Aviv from Washington, Commander, to bury them," she said warningly, sliding into the car.

"Your family has buried enough children, I understand, but the chances of–"

"I did my two years of service in the military, Commander Lucovetkin," Ziva interrupted. "I worked intelligence and _metzada_ for Mossad. I work intelligence and investigation for NCIS. I grew up in Tel Aviv. Do not belittle it by stating the obvious. They are still alive. Hamas would have dumped the bodies by now if they were not."

* * *

"Shalom, Ziva," Sachar greeted grimly, going to embrace her and looking startled when Ziva stepped aside smoothly. She headed towards the boardroom table scattered with papers and the television transmitting a live feed of some kind.

"What is the status, director?" she asked coolly.

"All available officers are combing Tel Aviv and the area, Ziva, but so far there has been no sign of either Ahava or Matai."

"Has there been any contact from Hamas? A phone call, a letter, an email?" Ziva continued, picking up a folder and beginning to read.

Sachar pulled the folder out of her hands and shut it. "You are not here as an investigator, Ziva."

"I am well aware of that, director," Ziva replied, watching the feed instead. "Who are we monitoring?"

"_You_ are not monitoring anybody, Ziva," came her father's terse voice as he entered the room. "Adnan, what is she doing in here? What is she doing in Tel Aviv, for that matter?"

Almost immediately, the air in the boardroom went ice-cold when Ziva replied, "I am trying to help with the search, deputy director."

"Go home to your Americans, Ziva," David replied. "Let Mossad handle this."

"Oh, like they handled Shai? Tali? Chayyim? Calev?" Ziva snapped back, fire crackling in her eyes. "No. I have just spent nine hours on a flight from Washington, I am here until Ahava and Matai have been found."

"Ziva!"

"I am not a child, deputy director, shouting will not make me listen."

David glared at her, muttering under his breath, "Could not make you listen as a child, either."

Father and daughter shot equally hateful daggers at each other before retreating to opposite sides of the room. Sachar sighed in disgust and started gathering up the papers. "Shmuel, Ziva, go home. I will contact you as soon as we have any news."

"I did not have time to reserve a hotel room, I will stay here," Ziva replied tersely.

"Go home with your father," Sachar said logically, just as Shmuel interrupted fiercely.

"She is not stepping one adulterous, traitorous foot onto my property!"

"I am not stepping one foot within three blocks of your intolerant, cold-hearted property!" Ziva hissed back. "I am not here for you. I am here for Ahava and Matai. When they are safe, I will go back to Washington, and I will stay there."

* * *

Ziva moaned slightly as she woke up in Sachar's office, having fallen asleep on the couch. Her cell phone was ringing irritatingly loud in her pocket, and when she pulled it out, she saw _NCIS Tony_ blinking at her.

Flipping it open, she put it against her ear. "_Boker tov_, my love," she murmured.

_"Good morning?"_ Tony's teasing voice came drifting over the fuzzy connection. _"It's damn close to midnight, Ziva."_

"Not in Tel Aviv," she replied. "How are you?"

_"A little tired. Missing you,"_ Tony answered. _"How are you?"_

"Tired. Jet-legged," Ziva admitted. "Frustrated."

_"And? My boy's still all right?"_

Ziva smiled as she laughed softly and put a light hand on her front. "Yes, Tony, he is perfectly fine." She paused for a moment when she heard Gibbs faintly on the other end. "What are you all still doing at NCIS at midnight?"

_"We're in lockdown. Another bomb threat. How's the search going?"_

"They will not let me in on anything. I am supposed to be just… sitting here like a, a, a, goose –"

_"Duck,"_ Tony laughed. _"It's a 'sitting duck', there, sweetcheeks. Not quite what you were looking for."_

"Whatever!" Ziva exclaimed. "I am useless here, Tony!"

_"All right, all right, just calm down,"_ Tony soothed. _"Don't you have contacts? Call them up. See if they know anything."_

Ziva smiled. "I knew I had married you for a reason."

_"What can I say? I'm just that good. Listen, I've got to go, Jen's coming down. Call me later, all right? Love you."_

"Love you too," Ziva said as he hung up. Sighing, she sat up and then began dialling a very familiar number.

_"Yes?"_

"Youssef, I need you to do me a favour," Ziva said, getting up from the couch.

_"What can I do for my favourite demonic Jewess?"_

"Hamas has taken Ahava and Matai. I need to know where and if you can get them out."

_"Well, why didn't you say so?"_ Youssef said, an uncharacteristically taunting tone in his voice. _"I have them right here. Say 'shalom' to your sister, girl."_

"Ahava?" Ziva asked desperately, just as she heard her sister's voice, wavering, coming into the phone. "Ahava, are you all right?"

_"Ziva, please, come," _Ahava begged. _"They are hurting me, Ziva…"_

Frantically, Ziva accessed Sachar's computer, furiously typing a desperate e-mail to McGee to trace the call. "Ahava, where is Matai? I will come find you, I promise."

_"Mossad will never find them, Ziva. They will stay here until the day their little Jewish bodies rot. And until then, we will use them as we see fit. We get lonely around here, you see, Ziva…"_

"You touch them, Youssef, and I will kill you with my own hands!" Ziva threatened furiously, just as a soft 'ping' sounded and McGee's message popped up. _Abby tracing now, keep on phone a.l.a.p_. "Let me speak to Matai," she ordered.

Matai's frightened young voice came crackling over the line. _"Ziva…"_

_"You've heard them both, they're still alive,"_ Youssef said.

"What does Hamas want, Youssef?" Ziva asked desperately, but Youssef just laughed and hung up.

A 'ping' sounded barely a minute later. _Traced to 15497 Derekh Hashalom. Qadar Textiles Company. Accurate within ten feet._

* * *

This probably qualified as 'crazy ninja stunts' in Tony's books, Ziva thought ruefully to herself as she kept her gun pointed steadily at the doors of the storefront. Oh well. What Tony didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Before she could even begin to think of all the things that Tony _hadn't_ known which had ended up hurting him, the officers were beginning to move in, and gunfire was erupting.

"Leave him!" Ziva yelled sharply when one officer began to aim for Youssef, who was escaping through a side door. "He is _mine_!" Quickly, she cut him off and knocked him to the ground. Digging the side of her boot in at just the right spot to make him temporarily paralysed, she hissed, "Shalom, Youssef."

"How?" Youssef gasped. "Release me. Please, Ziva, old friend…"

"Not old friend," Ziva said coolly. "An old friend would not have held my sister and brother hostage while he tortured them. Who is Daoud?" she asked tersely, digging the boot in a little deeper. "Who is the real informant?"

"David…" he gasped. "We know him only as David or Daoud… He is Mossad… high up in Mossad…"

"Ziva, cuff him or kill him, let's go!" one officer ordered.

Youssef's eyes pleaded with her for a moment, and then she sharply twisted her foot around so that it crushed his throat and snapped his neck.

* * *

"Ziva!" Ahava cried out from the back of the ambulance. "Ziva, you came, I knew you would come!"

"There, see, your sister is here. Now would you lie down?" the medic asked in exasperation. Ziva jumped up into the back and showed them her ID before she sat down between the two gurneys. She kissed the top of Matai's head lightly and squeezed Ahava's hand reassuringly.

"I am right here," she soothed. "I am not leaving you."

_

* * *

_

"How are they?"

Tony asked that afternoon, as Ziva paced around outside the hospital.

"They were held by Hamas for a full twenty-four hours and tortured, Tony," she snapped tiredly. "How do you _think_ they are?"

_"Ziva, have you slept at all?"_ Tony asked worriedly.

"Do not change the topic, Tony!"

_"I figured that was a rhetorical question, Ziva, I didn't think you wanted me to answer. I know they're injured and traumatized."_

"Then why are you asking?"

_"Forget it. Clearly the subtleties of the English language still escape you."_

Irritated, Ziva closed the phone without so much as a 'goodbye', turned it off and headed back inside the hospital. The cell phone rang again barely a minute later, _Tony Cell_ blinking at her insistently. Sighing, she flipped it open and retreated outside once more. "What?"

_"Don't get all temperamental on me, Ziva."_

"Temperamental? _Temperamental?_" she hissed. "I am _not_ temperamental, Tony!"

_"No, just pregnant and scared. Ziva, they're okay. They'll recover. Mossad will punish the ones responsible. Come home."_

Ziva sighed again, dropping onto the nearby bench and rubbing her temples as she said softly, "It's not that simple, Tony."

_"I thought you said they're not injured that badly."_

"No, they're not…" Ziva replied.

_"And I thought you said the kidnappers are already either dead or in custody."_

"They are."

_"So what's the complication?"_

* * *

Ziva waited to leave the hospital until after Matai had fallen asleep, aided in part by the painkillers. Brushing back a dark curl from his bruised and cut face, she laid a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Ziva, you're not leaving yet?" Ahava pleaded shakily from the bed beside her little brother. "You said you would stay until we got out of the hospital…"

"I am not leaving Tel Aviv quite yet, _shayna maideleh_," Ziva replied softly as she sat down on the edge of Ahava's bed. "I just need to go down to Mossad very briefly." Gently, she pulled Ahava into her arms when the young girl began to cry. "Shh, little Ahava, it will be all right. You go to sleep, Ziva will take care of everything…"

"When you leave Tel Aviv, Ziva," Ahava asked tearfully, "will it be forever?"

"Sleep, Ahava. Leave questions for another day," Ziva soothed. There was no point in telling her now, when she was still so upset.

Once Ahava had curled up under her blankets once more, promising to try and sleep, Ziva left the hospital quickly and drove down to Mossad.

* * *

There was no music playing now, nothing to drown out the screams and cries and howls of the one Hamas had called Daoud. Most of Mossad had gathered out in the main area, grim-faced. They had been betrayed by one of their own, one they had all trusted implicitly, had let access every file, every plan, every interrogation session.

Ignoring the looks her old colleagues were giving her, Ziva gained access to the interrogation wing and stormed down towards the room where her father was being tortured. All of Mossad knew that this wasn't interrogation – this was payback. Revenge. Pure torture. Nothing else. This was torture until death.

And Ziva would watch to make sure the monster died.

_

* * *

_

"So you're arriving in Washington in…"

"At about 5 PM your time," Ziva replied, showing the passport and law-enforcement pass to the officials.

_"Military, private?"_

"Commercial, Tony, the same way I arrived in Tel Aviv. Air Israel, flight 3125," she answered, stepping around behind the curtained section to unload her weapons, both visible and hidden. "Naval Criminal Investigative Service, based in Washington," she explained to the security officer in Hebrew.

_"Where are you right now, anyway?"_

"At security, explaining why I have five weapons hidden on my person."

Tony laughed, and Ziva had never heard a more welcome sound. _"See you at 5, then, darlin'. I'll swing by the airport on my way home from NCIS."_

"_Toda_, Tony."

"Prego, mi amor."

Ziva hung up and turned off the cell phone at the request of one of the security officers.

"Ziva, I'm hungry," Matai announced, still looking around the room in amazement as he stifled a yawn.

"Matai, stop _kvetch­_-ing, we will eat on the plane," Ziva replied sternly.

"But I'm hungry _now_, Ziva."

"Matai, stop it," Ahava ordered.

"Where are the passports for the children, Officer David?" the officer asked, examining her passport. "Your passport is valid for yourself and only yourself."

Sighing, Ziva handed over the papers. "I was given custody yesterday morning, the papers are to be used until Israel has issued my new passport with them on it."


	10. Return to Washington

* * *

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

* * *

**_Chapter 9: Return to Washington_**

"Ziva…" Matai complained, dropping his head against her side as the customs official in Washington took them off into a holding room. "Ziva, are we in America yet?" He yawned enormously.

"Yes, theoretically, Matai," Ziva sighed, biting back the urge to snap at the official. "Both of you, come sit down. Have a bit of a sleep, you have both been so patient."

Ahava yawned and gladly sat down on the bench. "Wake me when we can leave."

"I'm hungry," Matai whined again.

Ziva rubbed the back of her neck wearily. She didn't remember Calev having been this whiny when they and Chayyim had traveled from Tel Aviv last year. Then again, perhaps the fact he had slept for most of the voyage had played a factor. Neither Ahava or Matai had slept on the plane from Tel Aviv; so neither had she, and the baby was reminding her incessantly of her lack of sleep.

"Ms David?" another official asked, emerging from an office. He pronounced the name the English way.

"_Dah_-veed," all three siblings chorused tiredly in unison.

"That would be me. And it's Officer David. Mossad liaison with Naval Criminal Investigative Services."

"Why are you bringing minors into the United States, _Officer_ Day-_veed_?" the official asked. "You're not even a permanent resident."

"I have my green card," Ziva replied tersely. "It has been cleared already with USCIS. My husband filed the I-130s for each of us."

"Your green card expires in a week."

Ziva stifled the growl of frustration. "I have an A-2 and a K-3 visa. This is ridiculous. Do you have a pen and paper?" she asked irritably. When he set down both objects in front of her, she picked up the pen and began writing down number after number. "Mossad Director Adnan Sachar. NCIS Director Jennifer Shepard. American Ambassador to Israel in Tel Aviv Richard Jones. Israeli Ambassador to the United States of America in Washington, D.C. Sallai Meridor. Counsellor for Administration and Consul Rogel Rachman." Pausing a moment to think, she then continued. "Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, my immediate supervisor at NCIS. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, my husband. Would you like more people to call? I can put them down…"

"Ziva…" Matai complained once more.

"No, that will suffice for the moment. Have a seat, Officer David. We'll be with you shortly." Meaning sometime in the next twelve hours. Ziva knew this routine.

Ziva glanced at the clock on the wall. 4:45. "May I turn on my cell phone and contact my husband? He is expecting us in the arrivals zone at 5. He is likely there now."

"Put it on speaker," the official ordered. Ziva dialed Tony's cell and then hit the speakerphone button, setting it down on the table.

_"Hey, Ziva, where are you?"_

"I am in Customs, Tony. It will be hours before this all gets straightened out, they have to phone at least four different people. Go pick up Melanie and Alexa, we will meet you at home when we are through."

_"Not yet, Jen wants to see you for a second before we go home. But we filled out all the damn paperwork. No, correction, _I_ filled out all the damn paperwork! Doesn't your governmental visa let you pass?"_

"Apparently not with children in tow."

_"But the ambassadors themselves signed those emergency papers! What was the point in all those damn papers if they're not letting you pass?"_ Tony sighed in disgust._ "All right, I'm coming up. I want to go home."_

"We will be here," Ziva said dryly, hanging up.

* * *

"And how long have you been married?" Ziva's charming little official asked skeptically.

Tony and Ziva looked at each other momentarily. "Two months?" Tony asked her. "She's better at keeping track of time than I am," he said to the official.

"Closer to a month and a half," Ziva corrected, casting a glance at her finally-sleeping young siblings behind her. "It was not long after I found out about the baby."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Tony admitted. "It just seems longer because you were living with me when you came back."

* * *

Finally, after over 6 hours of sitting in that tiny room, Customs cleared Ziva, Ahava and Matai to pass into the U.S.

The two younger Davids dragged themselves along behind their sister sullenly, no longer enthused about this trip. Ziva was fighting off the drowsiness, gesturing wearily at the backseat for Ahava and Matai to enter while Tony loaded suitcases into the trunk. She slid into the front passenger and was out cold in less than a minute.

Tony drove as quickly as he dared back home to drop off all three tired Israelis, collected his daughters from his irritated mother, suffered through a fifteen-minute rant about his wayward Israeli lover, and drove home. He put Melanie and Alexa to bed and finally got to go to sleep himself at 2 AM, slipping under the covers beside Ziva and nestling her against him securely.

* * *

Ziva stifled a yawn as she woke up automatically at 5, mentally reminding herself to never go 24 hours without sleep again.

For once, she allowed herself a few lazy minutes to wake, resting her head against Tony's shoulder. The man slept like a… what was it the Americans called it, 'slept like a stone'? And he was normally still asleep when she came back from her morning run. Well, it wasn't so much a run as a brisk walk now, if she took Melanie with her.

As if to remind her about their routine, Melanie let out a yell from her bedroom. "Very well, very well," Ziva murmured, rolling away from Tony just as he groaned.

"You're a machine," he mumbled. "It's, what,"

"0505," Ziva replied, sitting up. "I have a late start today." She changed quickly and pulled back her hair. "I will take Melanie with me."

"All right," Tony said drowsily as he turned over and started to fall back asleep. "I'll get breakfast…"

"No, I will," Ziva said quickly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "No bacon for you for a while, Tony." She leaned over and kissed him, then lightly smacked his cheek with a hand. "I have to wean Ahava and Matai off of kosher."

"They don't have to _eat_ the bacon," Tony said pleadingly. "You don't."

"But they will not eat anything prepared in the same kitchen as pork," Ziva replied.

"If I get it on the way to NCIS?"

Melanie shrieked again insistently, and Ziva shook her head, getting to her feet. "They are coming with us, Tony. We will discuss your sacrificed bacon later, yes?"

As she left the bedroom, she quickly retrieved her 3-year-old stepdaughter before she woke anybody else. "Melanie, you will not make many friends in this house if you keep waking them at 5," she chided affectionately as she got Melanie dressed. "You will come again with me on my run this morning, yes?"

"Ziva," came Matai's sleepy voice from the cot in the corner. "Where are you going?"

"I am just going for a run, Matai," she replied. "I will be back in a hour, no more."

"May I come with you?" he asked, sitting up.

"It will be a long route, Matai," Ziva warned.

"I can run just as fast as you," Matai insisted, jumping to his feet.

* * *

"Ziva," Matai asked when they stopped midway back to the house. "Why is nothing in Hebrew? I cannot understand any of the signs or any of the people. Yaakov said that everything was in Hebrew when he lived in America."

Ziva sighed. "Yaakov and his family lived in a small Jewish town, Matai. Not in the big city."

"But even Jerusalem has everything in Hebrew, Yaakov said…"

"Because a large number of people in Jerusalem can speak Hebrew, Matai. Most people in America speak only English."

"But why would they not put it in Hebrew as well?" Matai asked again.

Ziva watched the young boy's face for a moment as she thought about how to best explain it to him. Israel was not very diverse, particularly not the region of Tel Aviv they had grown up in: if you were not Jewish, you were Muslim. If you did not speak Hebrew, you spoke Arabic and oftentimes you spoke both like a native tongue. How to explain to a 9-year-old who had barely even left his own house in those years that there was more in the world? How to explain that there were any number of languages in Washington and it simply was not possible to record all of them? Matai just didn't understand how big the world was. "Because the Americans do not speak Hebrew, mazik," she said finally. "Come, we must return to the house before somebody gets too hungry to wait any longer."

* * *

Ziva groaned when she stepped into the house to the distinct smell of bacon. She thought she'd head-slapped it out of him that she hated the smell of pork, but apparently not. Trying not to twist her face in disgust, she lifted Melanie out of the stroller, took off her jacket and called, "Tony, I told you not to make breakfast!"

"Yeah," Tony replied, appearing in the doorway with his breakfast plate in his hands. "I remembered that about the time your sister walked in and gave me the David look. That one," he elaborated, gesturing at Ziva. "The you're-being-so-unkosher-Tony-DiNozzo look."

Ziva pursed her lips and took the plate away, the slightest twitch indicating her distaste. Dumping the bacon into the garbage, she passed him back his eggs and toast.

"Hey!" Tony exclaimed. "I cleaned up and everything! Don't throw my bacon away!"

"I am not eating anything in this kitchen until it has been cleaned _again_, Ziva," Ahava complained from one of the chairs.

"I know, Ahava, I know," Ziva sighed tiredly. She lifted Melanie up into her high chair and quickly set some food out for her. "Thank you, Tony, it will take all day to get the smell of bacon out of my nose."

"I'm sorry!" Tony returned, taking Alexa out of her high chair and wiping off the infant's face. "It was an honest mistake…"

* * *

"All right, what is your problem today?" Tony demanded as he followed Ziva back into their bedroom.

"Would you get out?" Ziva threw back.

"You've been nothing but bitchy since you got back," Tony retorted.

"Go drop the girls off at your mother's," Ziva replied coolly. "I will meet you at NCIS."

"Ziva!" he snapped in frustration.

"Just… just go," she replied tersely, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

* * *

"Matai, no," Ziva ordered as the three siblings entered NCIS, her young brother preparing as though to lob the wrapper from breakfast into a distant wastebasket. "Behave yourself."

"But Ziva, what am I supposed to do all day?" Matai complained. "I have nothing to do."

Ziva sighed, broke off half of her challah and handed the rest to him. "Make it last."

"That'll give you five minutes," Ahava muttered.

"Clearly you didn't sleep long enough," Ziva muttered under her breath. She gestured at two spare chairs by her chair. "Sit. Behave. Find ways to amuse yourselves."

"Ziva, I'm still hungry," Matai spoke up through a mouthful of challah.

"Good grief, Matai, how much can one little 9-year-old eat?" Ziva said in exasperation. "You'll just have to wait until lunch."

"Morning, Ziva," McGee greeted as he walked in with drinks and breakfasts.

"Good morning, McGee," Ziva returned. "Oh, is that…" She grinned at him when he set down one cup and a wrapped burrito in front of her. "Thank you, McGee."

"No, I want that!" Matai exclaimed when his sister passed him the rest of her challah and picked up the burrito. "That smells good."

"That doesn't smell kosher," Ahava said sullenly, pulling out the portable DVD player she had been carrying and a few movies.

"Ahava, if I hear about kosher and unkosher one more time today –" Ziva lifted the burrito out of Matai's reach. "Matai! Enough! You are being such a little pest today…"

"They your siblings?" McGee asked, putting down another breakfast on Tony's desk and then on Gibbs' desk before sitting down at his.

"Astounding investigative skills, McGee," Ziva said with a hint of sarcasm. "What was your first clue, the Hebrew?"

"No, they just… look like they're related to you," McGee answered. "Have to admit, I didn't think they were that young."

"How old did you think they were, McGee? I told you I was 18 when she was born," Ziva replied after swallowing her mouthful.

McGee shrugged. "Where's Tony?"

"Not here," Ziva replied, voice taking a turn for the icy. "I do not particularly care where he is at the moment –"

"What have I told you about bringing the marital disputes to work, Ziva?" Gibbs asked pointedly as he strode past.

Ziva sighed and muttered something under her breath before she returned to her computer screen.

"What time did you arrive from Tel Aviv yesterday?" he continued, sliding into his seat.

"What time did the plane land, or what time did we finally clear Customs, or what time did we arrive home?" Ziva asked.

"All three," Gibbs replied.

"Plane landed at 4:30 yesterday afternoon, we cleared Customs at roughly midnight," Ziva answered shortly. "About 1 AM by the time we arrived home."

"All right, you're allowed to be short-tempered today," Gibbs said, just as Tony came running in late. "You're late, DiNozzo."

"Hey, um, doesn't either of your visas get you straight through?" McGee asked.

"Don't get her started on the customs guy," Tony said darkly through a mouthful of burrito. "Thanks for the breakfast, by the way, probie, seeing as _somebody_ threw out mine."

"I did _not_ throw out your breakfast!" Ziva exclaimed, glaring at him. "I threw out your bacon!"

"Tony, you cooked bacon?" McGee said in a reprimanding tone.

"Hey!" Tony exclaimed indignantly. "It was an honest mistake. Whose side on you on, anyway, probie?"

"I'm on the side of the one who can cause the most damage in the least amount of time from the furthest distance," McGee answered promptly. "So, yeah, I'm not on your side on this one."

"Probies truly are fickle things," Tony muttered as he pulled up a file on his own computer. "You take them under your wing, you train them, you teach them everything you know, and they abandon ship at the first threat of castration."

"Ziva, can I see you for a moment in my office?" Jen called from the second floor.

"Of course, director," Ziva called back. "You, sit," she ordered to Matai. "Don't touch anything. Ahava." She tugged one earphone out from her 12-year-old sister's ear. "Let Matai watch with you."

* * *

It didn't take very long before Matai was bored again, getting up from his chair and wandering from desk to desk, watching what they were doing.

"You'd think you were craving masculine attention or something," Tony commented to his young brother-in-law when Matai arrived back at his desk again from Gibbs'.

"Growing up with nothing but sisters, I'm sure he is, Tony," McGee said from across the room. "Either that or he's just really curious about what we're doing."

Matai looked at Tony, leaning on the desk and asked him something just as Ziva returned with an assortment of papers in her hands.

"Sorry, kid," Tony apologized. "I don't speak Hebrew, remember?"

"He wants to know where all the soldiers are," Ziva said distractedly, still reading one of the papers. She replied something back to him, and Matai returned with another question.

"Are you sure he's not ADD, Ziva?" Tony asked. "He's been going from place to place for an hour."

"ADD?"

"Attention Deficit Disorder," McGee clarified.

"Ah. Yes."

* * *

They met up at home once again, Ziva having sufficiently cleaned the kitchen to appease her sister.

"So am I forgiven yet?" Tony asked, coming up behind her and kissing her neck lightly. Ahava and Matai were entertaining Melanie and Alexa in the living room.

"Mmm…" Ziva mused, twisting around momentarily and breathing in the smell of his skin. Blessedly pork-free. "Yes."

"Do I get an explanation as to why you went so completely nuts on me this morning?"

"Were you expecting one?"

"Well, no, but it would've been a nice bonus," Tony shrugged, kissing her again. "So what are we going to do about Ahava and Matai, for school?"

Ziva sighed. "I managed to find an old friend from Tel Aviv who runs the Mitzvot Academy. She's agreed to let them into the Academy for the remainder of the school year and through the summer to try and get their English up to par for public school in the fall. It's a goodwill program they run for new immigrant children. Plus, Rachel owed me a few favours."

"So when are they starting?" Tony asked, attempting to filch a cookie from the jar on the edge of the counter. He yelped when she whacked his hand with the side of her knife sharply.

"You will ruin your dinner," she said sternly. "And on Monday. Not soon enough for me."

* * *

"So what happens if I decide I don't want to go to the American school, Ziva?" Ahava asked at dinner. "If I want to stay at the Jewish school?"

"We'll see, Ahava," Ziva sighed. "Mitzvot is an expensive school. I don't know that we have the money for it."

"Ziva, can I go to the American school?" Matai asked. "Yaakov said that sometimes the soldiers come into the American schools to tell them about the army."

"You have to learn your English first, Matai," Ziva replied with a slight smile.

"I don't want to learn English," Ahava announced. "I just want to speak Hebrew."

"You're not going to make it very far with no English, Ahava," Ziva said.

"I don't care, I don't need to go very far."

* * *

"So what was the whole conversation about at dinner?" Tony asked that night after they had put everybody under the age of 14 to bed.

"Mmm… school. English," Ziva replied with a chuckle as she wrapped her arms around him. "Inane pieces of conversations," she murmured into his ear.

Tony chuckled in return. "Oh, you keep talking, Officer David, because you have no idea," he paused to kiss her, "what your inane pieces of conversations do to me."

"Oh, I think I have an idea," Ziva replied smoothly, pulling him back towards their bedroom.

* * *

Tony groaned as he woke up to surround sound screams. "Ziva," he said, shaking her awake roughly. "Ziva!" He pulled her into his arms as she awoke, shaking almost uncontrollably. "Ziva, you okay?"

Ziva nodded distractedly, snuggling her head against his neck briefly before she broke away. "Just… nightmares. That's all. Goes with the territory." She sat up and reached for her robe. "I'd better go calm down Matai and Ahava before they wake the girls."

"I'll come, too," Tony murmured, sitting up.

* * *

"Hey, hey, Matai, wake up, wake up," Tony whispered, reaching out to gently shake the young boy into consciousness. "Matai, it's all right, it's just a nightmare."

Matai woke up with a final scream of terror and flew into an upright position. Fatherly instincts honed over the last three years had Tony wrapping his arms tightly around Ziva's brother, rocking the boy lightly.

Instinctively, Matai fought against his arms. Then, slowly, the fighting stopped and Matai melted back against his chest, crying into his shoulder. Not knowing what was wrong, Tony had no choice but just to rock him, whispering soft soothing words that Matai didn't understand.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, when exactly Matai had fallen asleep. He just knew that eventually, he lifted Matai back into his cot and crept back to the master bedroom. He could still hear Ziva and Ahava talking quietly in Alexa's room, and to him it sounded like they would be a while yet. So he slid to the ground against the wall, trying to remember what exactly he had signed up for two months ago. He was pretty sure that terror-traumatized Israelis hadn't been in the wedding vows. Maybe just one.

* * *

_Tony was just about to fall asleep when he felt the massage stop and Ziva lean down towards his ear and murmur, "Tony, I need to talk to you."_

_"Talk away, Ziva," he replied._

_He heard her sigh softly and nestle against his back, folding her arms across his shoulder blades and resting her head by his. "I am pregnant, Tony," she whispered into his ear._

_"What?" Tony asked, thinking that maybe he was hearing voices now._

_"Pregnant, Tony, as in baby," Ziva repeated, a slight hint of irritation in her voice._

_"Oh," Tony said, still a little drowsy. "When did that happen?"_

_"Your guess would be as good as mine, my love," Ziva sighed. "Most likely, it was Tel Aviv."_

_"Of course."_

_

* * *

_

"What exactly is the purpose of a bachelor party?" Ziva asked about two weeks later as she double-checked the folder filled with papers. Melanie was jumping up and down excitedly around her, and Alexa giggling happily at her sister's antics from her spot on Ziva's hip.

_"What, you've never heard of a bachelor party?" Tony's old college friend Ryan Hanson asked incredulously from the entranceway to the living room. "What country are you from again? And how long have you been living here?"_

_"Israel, and long enough," Ziva replied curtly. "I asked what the purpose was, not the definition."_

_"Oh, that explains a lot," Ryan muttered as he spotted the Star of David necklace. "Explains the shotgun wedding, at least. Afraid that Papa's going to find out what his daughter's been doing in America?"_

_"Hey, where are you three going?" Tony asked, interrupting Ziva's retort as he slipped in past Ryan and leaned in to kiss her and then Alexa._

_"I have to go renew my visa today at the Israeli consulate," Ziva replied. "Must be done today, or you, my love, will marrying me in Tel Aviv." She returned his kiss. "And you are apparently having a bachelor party."_

_"All right, see you later then," Tony said, scooping up Melanie for one last kiss before setting her down. "Ti amo."_

_"Ohev otach," she returned with a final evil eye in Ryan's direction. "Can you help me get the girls into the car?"_

_"Sure," Tony said, pulling Melanie's coat on for her and buttoning it up._

_

* * *

_

"So that wasn't so bad," Tony muttered under his breath to Ziva as she rolled her eyes and returned,

_"No?"_

_"Ryan actually remained awake the whole time. You ought to be flattered, he passed out with Jeanne." Tony bit his tongue at mention of his ex-wife. Hot-button topic, shouldn't have gone near it…_

_Ziva was quiet only a moment before finally saying, "I think he was more curious to see if the Jewess would go through with it, or if fire from heaven would rain down and smite her."_

_"I thought it would for a second this morning," Tony replied, sneaking a kiss from her. "Did you see those clouds overhead?"_

_"Where are the girls?" Ziva asked._

_"Last I checked, Abby was going after my mother for them. Said she had some kind of wedding shower present for them." He let out a strangled yell of surprise when Abby popped up, along with the rest of the NCIS crew. "Abigail Sciuto, what did you do to my daughters?" he demanded weakly, as Ziva started to laugh uncontrollably along with the rest of NCIS._

_"I made them Mini-Mes," Abby said brightly, grinning as Ziva, still howling, took Alexa back from her. The infant was clapping her gloved hands happily, with a gorgeous black lace dress and little leather boots. Melanie, meanwhile, was giggling along with her Aunty Abby in a two-piece skirt and t-shirt set with a pair of red and black striped tights, her reddish-brown hair pulled up into two tiny braided pigtails and a headband pulled around for effect._

_Finally, Tony gave in and laughed, hoisting Melanie up onto his arm. He would remember that picture for a lifetime: Ziva, her face glowing in the moment of joy, the way her eyes had met his and had transmitted pages of wordless love._

* * *

Tony woke up when he heard Ziva's soft voice by his ear. "Wake up, Tony. Come back to bed." Reluctantly, he got to his feet, her hand gentle on his arm. "Everyone is asleep again. Except for us."

"I was asleep," Tony yawned defensively. "I was having a pretty good dream."

"Really?" Ziva asked coyly, pulling him back towards the bed. "About what?"

"About our wedding," Tony replied as she curved comfortably into him. "And our wedding night."

"Ah, yes, the, um, shot – shot – shotglass wedding? Is that not how they referred to it?"

"Shotgun," Tony corrected. "The term is a shotgun wedding. Means it's quick and everybody assumes that the bride is pregnant and that's why they're marrying."

"Mmm…" Ziva laughed lightly. "They would be right, yes?"

"Not that they know that," Tony said, kissing her once more.

"They will soon enough," she replied, and Tony saw the same happy sparkle in her eyes as he had the day of their wedding.


	11. Friends and Lovers

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

* * *

_**Chapter 10: Friends and Lovers**_

The next morning, Ziva didn't go out for her run as she normally did. The letter dropped off at Mossad and air-expressed to NCIS had distracted her from virtually everything.

She couldn't read the letter when Ahava and Matai were around – the words contained within weren't meant for their young eyes to see. She couldn't read it while Tony was around – he would pester her non-stop until she told him the contents, and it wasn't meant for his ears. So she got Melanie up and dressed, passing her some toys to keep her occupied and pulled out the letter.

_Dearest Ziva:_

_I heard from a source in America recently that you were to be married, that they believe you are with child once again by your American lover. I did not want to believe them, because that would mean that our time together meant nothing to you. That our lives were not irreversibly intertwined. That you did not need me, did not want me. It would mean that I have been a fool for all these years, believing that you had been thinking as I have._

_I had to know for certain, my splendid little bird. You understand. And when I discovered the truth of it, that all the information my source had given me was very much real, rage such as I have never felt before filled me. My only thought was to hurt you as you hurt me, and the only way I could think of was to take your most precious ones. I know you, and I know you far more well than your American lover. I know you have already lost a number of friends, two sisters, a mother, a son and a lover to Hamas. I know that you will come running back to Tel Aviv._

_My demands will be quite simple: bring you to me and I would let the children go free in repayment… I know your father would sell you out if it meant that his son would be released with no harm done._

_Do you remember those months when we were by the Jordan border, when we were hidden in that lonely cave with nothing but each to keep warm with? The memories of those months sustain me, dear Ziva._

Ziva stopped reading just there, closing her eyes wearily. When had he written this: before she had arrived in Tel Aviv? Before she had called? After she had called?

Despite her best efforts, the memories began to pound against the walls she had constructed around them.

_

* * *

_

21-year-old Ziva gasped for breath as she and Youssef finally stopped running in a deserted clearing. "The cave, Youssef, the cave…"

_Once inside, the two of them looked at each other, soaked in rain and then laughed._

_"Youssef, stop," she said as he closed his lips over hers. "Stop, you cannot…" she trailed off as his hands began to peel off her wet shirt._

_"But I can, splendid little bird," Youssef murmured, unhooking her bra and pulling off her pants. "I can because you let me. Because you know that we will be great lovers, you and I."_

_

* * *

_

"Enough, Youssef, you are a man of one mind," Ziva exclaimed as she sidestepped to avoid him again. "I must get back to Chayyim and Calev."

_"They will not miss you for a while longer," Youssef countered, pulling her against him._

_

* * *

_

"Ack! Ziva, you're going to get your dress all dirty…" Abby exclaimed as Ziva knelt down momentarily to let Alexa stand up on wobbly feet in the grass.

_"It will be fine, Abby," Ziva laughed, even as the young forensic scientist snatched up Alexa._

_"All right, we'd better get going," Tony said as Gibbs pulled Melanie out of his arms. He sent Ziva a slight mischievous glance as she stood up again._

_Ziva rolled her eyes._

_

* * *

_

Ziva paused momentarily as she was getting into the towncar, catching a glimpse of somebody in the shadows out of the corner of her eye. Eleven years in Mossad told her to draw her weapon, but she didn't have one readily accessible. Damn this dress and damn Abby for telling her she couldn't wear a gun at her wedding…

_"Ziva?" Tony asked from behind her. "What's wrong?"_

_Frowning for a moment, Ziva shook off her unease. "Nothing, Tony. Nothing."_

* * *

Youssef's letters went on for easily twenty pages, outlining every detail, every uncertainty, every certainty, every facet, every moment of their lives from childhood until the day she had killed him.

He had been her lover, yes, but above all else, he had been her friend. And he had betrayed that trust.

Tightening her jaw and firmly knocking the memories out of her mind, Ziva got up and went to the shredder and carefully began to shred the past, piece by piece.

* * *

Just as the last piece had passed through the shredder, the angry Arabic script with its deadly threats disappearing into the abyss, Ziva felt his breath tickle her ear.

"You're back early," he murmured as he kissed her cheek.

"I never left," she murmured back.

"So I was thinking last night," Tony began to say, pulling her up from her chair and over to the couch.

"Were you?" she purred, playing with a stray tuft of his hair. "That's serious…"

"Now, don't do that, Ziva," Tony said smoothly, disentangling her fingers. "You're going to distract me from my profound, life-changing thought."

"Mmm, this _does_ sound serious," she continued, pulling her hand free and returning to play as she began to kiss his jawbone lightly. She laughed as he swatted her away gently. "So what profound, life-changing thought did you have last night?" she asked, persisting in her quest to drive him mad.

"I was thinking that we need the all-American minivan now."

Ziva was so amused that she actually stopped kissing him to laugh. "_That_ was your profound, life-changing thought?"

"Yeah," Tony admitted. "The all-American minivan and a bigger house."

Ziva shook her head and laughed again. "Oh, Tony…" she sighed affectionately as he ducked in to kiss her. "That was _muy romantico_."

"Hardly," he replied dryly.

* * *

For the first time in her twelve years, Ahava David was jealous of her sister. All of her life, she had adored, even idolized her older sister, her surrogate mother. She had cried when Father had refused to let Ziva continue to live with them, had thrown a temper tantrum when he tried to stop her from seeing her sister, had sobbed for a week when Ziva had left for America.

Ziva was everything Ahava had wanted to be. She was bold, brave, independent. Ziva didn't need Father to live her life. Ziva had risked everything to do what she loved.

But then Hamas had kidnapped her and Matai, and they had shattered Ahava's naïve childhood.

Ahava watched from around the corner as Ziva laughed again and whispered something in English into her husband's ear, watched when he responded with a smile and a kiss. Watched as once again, her sister got all that Ahava never would.

No man would ever want her. No self-respecting man would love a defiled woman.

And she would never let another man touch her again.

* * *

"Tony, do you really want to attempt that?" Ziva laughed as she untangled herself from his arms at Melanie's insistent pleads. "Melanie, little one, you are so demanding today," she said, lifting Melanie up onto the couch and set her down on Tony's lap.

"Yeah, let's go out for breakfast," Tony repeated, tossing Melanie over one shoulder as he got to his feet. He grinned as she shook her head again and headed back towards the bedrooms. God, she was gorgeous…

Barely five minutes later, she was back with Matai trailing along sleepily behind her, Alexa in one arm and Ahava following a little distance away. Tony stopped himself from physically moving his head as his eyes were once again drawn to less noble pursuits than breakfast.

Ziva laughed, a glint in her eyes as she head-slapped him. "Good try, elevator eyes," she said seductively, kissing him briefly.

"Mmm, you laugh all you want, David," Tony replied, returning the kiss. "I saw you bringing out your bedroom eyes."

* * *

And for some strange, unknown reason, it felt… right. It felt right to be sitting around this table in a diner with noise going every which way, with Alexa banging her fist on the high chair tray delightedly, with Melanie nestled into his arm, with Matai chattering and Ahava and Ziva arguing.

Something told Tony that he should probably get used to the sisterly catfights – after all, Ahava _was_ almost 13, and what else were 13-year-olds more famous for than getting on everybody's nerves?

"All right, all right, you two, leave the argument until later!" Tony finally exclaimed, just as the waitress arrived with their breakfasts.

Ziva sighed in frustration, muttering to Ahava, "You should be eternally grateful that you are cute beneath that attitude."

"You should be eternally grateful that you will always be bigger than me," Ahava muttered back.

"I should have left you in Tel Aviv."

"I should have told Father who really killed Ari. Then I _would_ still be in Tel Aviv."

Ziva growled in a low tone, irritably clenching a fist beneath the table. "Be glad that hitting children is illegal in America," she finished. "Matai, stop gawking and eat," she ordered abruptly.

"But Ari was killed by an American, wasn't he?" Matai asked. "He was being Hamas, right, and that's why the American killed him?"

"We are _not_ discussing Ari right now, both of you!" Ziva exclaimed. "Eat your breakfast!"

* * *

"She's 13, Ziva. Even if she hadn't undergone all that trauma, you'd still feel like wringing that little neck of hers," Tony said. "It goes with the territory."

"Ugh," Ziva groaned as she laid Alexa down in her crib. "Is it Monday yet, so that I can ship her off to school?"

"No, not quite yet," Tony replied, ducking in to brush a kiss against the edges of her lips, one hand light on her stomach. "Come on, come to bed. Monday will come soon enough. But you know what tonight is?"

"Saturday…" Ziva replied, not quite following.

"'T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house…'" Tony quoted with a grin as he pulled her out of the room. The grin faded slightly when Ziva frowned at him.

"Tony, it is May. Is your Christmas not in December?" Ziva asked.

"Never mind," Tony said with a shake of his head.

* * *

Ziva was awakened at roughly 2 AM by a timid hand shaking her shoulder. "Ziva?" came her sister's shaky voice. "Ziva…"

Ziva groaned as she sat up slowly, a faint sensation of nausea washing over her. "What, Ahava?" she asked drowsily. "It is 2 AM…"

"I'm sorry, Ziva, for arguing," Ahava whispered, climbing up onto the bed to elicit a hug from her older sister. "I don't mean to be…"

"Do not worry, Ahava, I know," Ziva said in return, wrapping a gentle arm around her sister. "Did you have another nightmare?" Ahava nodded, laying her head on Ziva's shoulder. "They will stop, Ahava. Trust me, they will stop."

"Not soon enough…"

* * *

"Come, little Ahava, we will leave Tony to sleep in peace," Ziva said finally, when she noticed Tony stirring after a while.

"Mm-hmm," Ahava said softly. "I'm not little any more."

Ziva smiled slightly. "You will always be little to me."

* * *

Tony woke up when Alexa started to cry insistently, mumbling sleepily, "Ziva, get her…"

He heard a small voice ask him something in Hebrew, and then a pair of hands push his shoulder insistently.

"I don't speak Hebrew, Matt," he groaned. "You don't mind if I call you Matt? Easier for my non-Israeli accent to pronounce. Leave me alone. Go find your sister. It's Sunday, I am sleeping in."

"_Toh-nay_…" Matai complained, pushing his shoulder again. "_Efo Ziva_?"

"English, Matt," Tony groaned again, pulling his pillow over his head. "Ziva!"

"All right, Tony, get up," Ziva's order came as she yanked his pillow away and dumped Melanie on the bed. "Melanie, get him." She added another order in Hebrew to Matai.

"Agh!" Tony yelped as Melanie and Matai attacked him. "No fair! You can't all attack me at once, it's not _faaaair_… Ziva!"

* * *

"That was low and underhanded," Tony muttered to Ziva as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, Alexa in his arm.

"You cannot sleep in all the time, Tony," Ziva replied, gently nudging Melanie out of the way of the stove. "So? Do we have any plans for today?" she asked, just as Ahava took Melanie by the hand.

"Well, you've got that doctor's appointment this afternoon," Tony said. "We might as well get the kids all checked up while we're there." He paused. "There's an open house down in that new development I thought maybe we could check out…"

"Mmm, you are ambitious with four kids in tow," Ziva replied with a slight laugh.

"No, 'ambitious' would be trying to do all of this on Monday while trying to sweet-talk USCIC into expedited citizenship," Tony countered.

* * *

Tony's cell jangled like a maniac just as Dr. Rosen finished checking Alexa's breathing. Sighing, he cast a glance at the caller ID and then groaned. "Yes, Helen?" he asked wearily as he brought the phone to his ear. Frowning, he gestured to Ziva for Alexa. "That was _next _weekend…" He rolled his eyes at Ziva as she sighed and waved him off. "All right, all right, Helen, I'll drop them off in about half an hour. Well, we're kind of in the middle of a doctor's appointment…"

"So, Ziva, you've been feeling okay? No overly persistent sickness, fatigue, dizziness?" Rosen asked, starting to perform Matai's check-up just as Tony held up his keys and mouthed, 'Meet you at home'.

"Pick up the van on the way!" Ziva called after him. "No, I have been fine," she answered Rosen's question. "The occasional nausea, but not so much as with Calev."

"Good, good, I was a little worried, after the stresses of the last few months…" Rosen murmured, lapsing into Hebrew before declaring Matai fit as a soldier and motioning for Ahava to come.

Ahava was less readily convinced that she was in no danger as her little brother, sending Ziva a pleading glance. Then she sighed in resignation and slid up onto the examination table.

* * *

"So that is one big vehicle," Tony said matter-of-factly that night as he ducked in to kiss the edge of her cheekbone, where one of the faint scars from Mossad's interrogation had stubbornly remained. "I think I'll call it Moby. After Moby Dick."

Ziva laughed, closing her eyes and letting his capable hands continue to knead the knots out of her back. "A unique name, Tony. But what did you think of the house?"

Tony laughed this time. "Well, your brother certainly liked the attic room."

Ziva rolled her eyes, remembering how Matai's eyes had lit up like a Chanukah menorah at the room and had proceeded to dash around, already plotting its layout.

_

* * *

_

"Wow, that's actually…" Tony began to say, then was interrupted by Matai fairly squealing,

_"Look! Look, Ziva, this is perfect!" He took off for a far corner. "It's just like Ari's room in Tel Aviv! The bed goes here – it must be hidden a little more, though, so that Hamas snipers can't target me while I'm sleeping. And the workspace over here – and room for play over there – and…" He examined the area by the staircase intently. "And a stakeout nest! Ziva," he asked, coming back obediently when she motioned to him. "Can I have this one?"_

* * *

"Yes, he _did _take to that room, did he not?" Ziva said affectionately.

"Ahava might even have liked it," Tony commented.

"Do you know what I liked?" Ziva asked, turning around.

"Well, I know what _I_ liked," Tony replied, kissing her hungrily as he quickly coaxed her under the covers. "I liked the secluded master bedroom…"

"Away from the traffic…"

"A hidden oasis in a busy house…"

"Unlike here," Ziva teased, biting back a laugh as he stripped them both, "where you are under constant threat of exposure."

"Oh yeah, I'm walking a real thin line there, Ziva," Tony said, ducking in to kiss her throat again. "And just so you know," he added in a conspiratorial whisper, "that was –"

"_Definitely_ not your knee," Ziva finished for him.


	12. The Toughest Obstacle

DISCLAIMER: I do not own NCIS.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: (_lol) _Spread the Tiva love, this fic has converted a person to total Tiva! Everybody welcome 24-Fan-4-Ever to the Tiva family! Like Mossad and the Mafia, we're all one big, happy family, spreading the Tiva love… (_has clearly been working on school papers for far too long this weekend)_ Yeah, sorry for the wait, I have a huge History paper due next week and I had a major Psychology presentation last week. And then… Have any of you heard of the children's book _Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day_? That's been my week. (_muses)_ Maybe I should work that book into the story…

* * *

**_Chapter 11: The Toughest Obstacle_**

"All right, Tony, I gotta ask," McGee said, with a slight twitch that indicated a barely-repressed grin. "Is that minivan out there yours?"

"No," Tony said defensively. "It's not sitting in _my_ parking space."

"He calls it Moby," Ziva said from her desk, a slight smirk on her face.

"You named your minivan Moby?" McGee asked.

"He will not let me drive it," Ziva continued, leaning back in her chair as she grinned at Tony's expression. "Like a mother bear with her cub."

"You still drive like an Israeli," Tony muttered self-consciously as McGee started to laugh hysterically. "Who taught you to drive, any way?"

"Wouldn't _you_ love to know," she replied.

_

* * *

_

"Gas it, Ziva," came the order of her 25-year-old brother as he steadied her on the motorcycle from behind. "Keep it balanced and for the love of Allah, go fast! You want slow and steady, go find Shai's tricycle."

_"You sure about that, Ari?" Ziva asked, pulling the helmet over her head._

_"Motorcycles were not designed to go slow, _ohktee_," Ari laughed._

_Ziva grinned at her father, who was shaking his head in a clear 'get-off-that-motorcycle-this-moment-young-lady' sign. Then she gunned it and took off down the street, hearing her father's distant shouts and Ari's yells of approval._

* * *

"I had help learning how to drive a motorcycle," Ziva finally admitted. "I taught myself how to drive a car."

"Motorcycle?" Tony asked interestedly, sitting up and ignoring McGee's snickers and stabs at the minivan.

"When I was 14," Ziva affirmed. "My brother taught me when he was home on break from university." Then she internally head-slapped herself. Tony and McGee didn't know about Ari. Gibbs was the only one.

"God, Ziva, you keep adding siblings every time your family comes into the conversation," Tony said. "How many do you _have_?"

"Alive or dead?" Ziva asked.

"Total."

"Three sisters, two brothers. Well, technically one brother, one half-brother. The older was my father's son from another relationship."

"Let me guess, he's dead too?" McGee asked.

Ziva nodded, biting the inside of her cheek briefly. She couldn't reveal his identity, even six years later. Tony and McGee hadn't known Ari like she had. They had never been to Tel Aviv in her childhood, when Ari had been the strong, brave, mesmerizing older brother who would promise to teach her how to beat up any little Arab boy who dared impugn her honour, who would sneak her out of the house on his visits for midnight rides on his motorcycle. They hadn't been there the day Daoud had died in Gaza, when Ari had set aside his own pain and grief and anger at his mother's death to comfort her. "He was shot a number of years ago," she replied quietly.

"Who was shot?" Gibbs asked as he entered.

"Ziva's mysterious older half-brother, boss," Tony replied. "So how much older was he, Ziva?"

"You do not want to know, Tony," Ziva replied immediately, shaking her head slightly when Gibbs shot a questioning glance at her.

"Aha, he wasn't all that much older, was he?" Tony asked, a grin on his face. "That's some long-suffering mother of yours, to stay married to him knowing he'd had an affair at the same time… the other woman probably lived two blocks away, hey?"

"Ari was 11 years older, Tony, for your information," Ziva snapped. "He and his mother lived in Gaza." Frustration pricking at the edges of her composure, along with the tears at the edges of her eyelids, she got up from her desk and disappeared down the hall.

"Hey, hey, stop a second, will you?" Tony asked in exasperation, catching up with Ziva around the corner from the director's stairs. "Listen, I'm sorry, that was so cad of me. I didn't mean to diss anybody."

"You… you just do not understand, Tony," Ziva replied, turning away.

"What? What don't I understand?" Tony demanded, grabbing her arm. "Ziva, I can't understand unless I know what's going on! What's so touchy about Ari?" Then he stopped, and Ziva saw him piecing it together. "Oh, my God, Ziva… not Haswari. Tell me your brother was not Ari Haswari."

Ziva nodded silently, heart sinking when she saw the shock and betrayal in his eyes.

* * *

"So sounds to me like you're in some kind of argument," Abby commented to Ziva as Tony left, the air between him and Ziva so cold it could have solidified. "What's it about?"

"Unfortunate family connections and misunderstandings," Ziva replied with a sigh, handing a few vials to her. "I mentioned a brother that I should not have mentioned."

"Why would that be a bad thing?" Abby asked.

"Because of who that brother is, what he did, and the fact I did not tell him about the brother."

Abby looked at her for a while before she asked, "Ari?" When Ziva looked up in surprise, she added, "Ducky told me he thought you might've been related. Said that there was something about the eyes."

Ziva sighed again. "You know why I could not tell him about Ari?" she said quietly. "Because the only Ari that NCIS knows is a traitor, a terrorist, a murderer. None of you know the Ari I grew up with. He was not always the monster he turned into."

"I'm sure," Abby replied. "Pass me the syringe there."

"I mean," Ziva continued, brushing her hair back from her face as she passed the syringe, "Ari used to come to Tel Aviv from Gaza every week when I was young to spend the weekend with us. He came out on a bus once, before he got his license, and somebody blew it up – I do not remember if it was an Israeli or an Arab – and he had a concussion and nearly lost his arm. Ari's mother told him to come back to Gaza. He kept going to Tel Aviv. He said that he could not disappoint me. Even when he was in Edinburgh, he used to call every week just to talk to us. He was the one who taught me to drive, how to shoot, how to defend myself…" She stopped, quickly swiping at her eyes.

Abby looked at her friend sympathetically for a moment before she hugged her briefly. "Come on, it's Tony," she offered. "He'll forget all about it by the time you go home. Tony couldn't hold a grudge if his life depended on it."

* * *

"You fine to walk?" Tony asked tersely as he pulled up at the gates of Mitzvot Academy.

"Perfect, if it means you are not there," Ziva replied, getting out.

"See you at home."

Ziva didn't reply, slamming the door instead.

* * *

"Ziva! Ziva, look!" Matai said excitedly as Ziva entered the school. "Mrs. Bar-Efrayim says that's the American Navy Yard right there!" He pointed out the window towards the other side of the Navy Yard from where they usually entered to access NCIS.

"You've already been there, Matai, you just went in through a different entrance," Ziva laughed, hugging him briefly. "That's where I work."

"But I didn't see any soldiers when we were there," Matai objected.

"They don't work in my building, _mazik_," Ziva said, ruffling his hair affectionately as she greeted Ahava with a quick hug.

"Ziva, do you have anywhere to be immediately?" came the question of her old school friend as she emerged from the principal's office. "I was wondering if we could maybe talk for a bit."

"Oh, of course, Rachel," Ziva replied. "Everything went all right today, I hope?"

"Oh, good, good, no worries, Ziva," Rachel said. "Actually, what we noticed today," she added as the two young women entered the office, "was that Ahava is actually a little advanced for her grade. Really, she's operating at an eighth grade level, not a seventh grade level. Once she learns her English, there should be nothing stopping her from beginning high school in September."

"Really?" Ziva asked, not sounding particularly surprised. "Well, she was always the smart one."

"The other thing, Ziva," Rachel said, in a little more serious tone, "is that we had an... interesting event earlier today. Do you know exactly what happened to them while they were captured by Hamas?"

"No, not entirely, they won't speak of it," Ziva replied, a frown on her face.

"You might want to find out," Rachel said quietly. "I think they need counseling. Harel, one of our transition program assistants, came in today to help out for a few hours. In the first place, they were frightened to death of him- not surprising, since he does look a lot like an Arab. His father was Arab, his mother Jewish. Neither would let him within five feet of them."

Ziva nodded. "I'll see, Rachel. Thank you for letting me know."

* * *

NCIS knew something was wrong when Tony and Ziva showed up in different cars.

"Man, that must've been some big fight," Jen said quietly to Gibbs as they watched the team begin arriving. "It's been, what, a full twenty-four hours?"

"It's going to take longer than that, Jen," Gibbs replied.

"How bad can it be?" Jen asked. "I mean, they both have secrets. They've both seen a lot of horror over the course of their lives. Maybe Ziva a little more than Tony, but –"

"Tony found out about Ari," Gibbs interrupted.

"Ari Haswari?" Jen asked. "The Hamas operative who killed Kate Todd?"

"Yeah, the one I killed!" Gibbs exclaimed. "Haswari was her half-brother."

Jen looked shocked. "Well, that's Mossad for you," she murmured. "One big, happy family."

* * *

She wasn't going to grovel. Davids did not grovel. She had nothing to grovel for – what had she done wrong?

Ziva tried to concentrate on the case in front of her, ignoring the looks she knew Tony was giving her from across the bullpen. If he wanted to stew and simmer and leer in an effort to get her to cave, he could keep trying. "McGee, could you get the Fairchild file for me?" she asked.

"Uh, sure, but why doesn't Tony get it, it's on his desk?" McGee asked as he got up, apparently caught in between the two squabbling spouses when Tony lifted a finger in a clear 'stay where you are' gesture.

"Because it's _so_ much work for you to get up and walk the six steps to my desk and take it," Tony hissed as McGee tried to decide who was the more dangerous of the two. He rolled his chair over to Ziva's desk and put the file down on top of her pile of papers, muttering under his breath, "You're not _that_ pregnant."

Ziva kicked his chair back towards his own desk. "Go to Sheol, Tony."

"Around here, Ziva, we call it hell," Tony replied tersely.

Ziva looked up for a second, spat something in Hebrew that Tony was glad he didn't have a translation for and returned to her work.

"I'm not sure I want to know what this fight was about," McGee mumbled, turning back to his computer as Gibbs came back in.

* * *

"So the realtor called while you were up in MTAC with Mossad," Tony said that evening, letting Melanie scramble up onto his lap with a book.

"Hmm," Ziva replied, rocking Alexa (who had apparently contracted a fever this afternoon) as she looked at Ahava's math homework. "And?"

"Daddy!" Melanie insisted, tugging at his shirt.

"All right, all right, Melanie," Tony said, turning back to his daughter and her book.

"Tony!" Tony ignored Ziva's sharp order and started to read the story to Melanie. Moments later, he felt a thumb digging into the nape of his neck. "The realtor, Tony."

"Let my neck go and maybe I'll tell you," Tony snapped. He flinched when her nail started cutting in. "All right, all right, he said we got it!"

"That's it, no other buyers?" Ziva asked suspiciously, releasing his neck. "Why?"

"I don't know!" he yelped, rubbing the back of his neck. "Would you quit with the abuse already?" he demanded as she head-slapped him. "Geez, I tell you I managed to get us a house where we're not tripping over kids every two minutes and you immediately turn it into a conspiracy theory!"

* * *

Tony grumbled under his breath as he got up from the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. Enough was enough. This was the second night in a row that he was sleeping on the couch, and he hated it. If he had to swallow his pride and his dignity and his rightness, then he had to swallow them.

"I hate women," he muttered, padding down the hallway. "I hate them all. Especially this one."

* * *

Ziva was fast asleep when he opened the door cautiously. Stifling a yawn, he closed the door again and slipped under the covers, nestling her securely into him as he pressed a light kiss against her jawline. Tony settled a hand comfortably over her stomach and closed his eyes to sleep.

"If you are looking for a kick, Tony, his feet are over here," Ziva murmured drowsily, moving his hand slightly. Her fingers curled around his.

Hate? Who had said anything about hate? Heck, no, Tony DiNozzo loved women. Especially this one.

* * *

"You sure you're feeling up to work today, Ziva?" Tony asked again as he swung the minivan into the NCIS parking lot. "You don't look so good."

"I am fine, Tony," Ziva said carefully. "Just feeling a little under the water this morning."

"Under the weather." He grinned when she made to head-slap him.

* * *

"Ziva, you don't look good, go home," Gibbs ordered. "DiNozzo, what possessed you to let her come to work like that?"

"Well, boss, she threatened to cut certain parts of my anatomy off if I tried to stop her," Tony replied pleadingly.

"I am fine, Gibbs," Ziva insisted. "I must have caught the tail end of whatever Alexa had last night."

"Here," Tony said, tossing an apple at her. "Eat something."

Ziva made a vague face. Food sounded, looked and smelled revolting.

"Eat," Gibbs ordered finally, eyeing her for a second. Then understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes.

"Jethro, may I see you for a moment?" Ducky called from the elevators.

Gibbs got up from his desk, and as he passed Tony, he gave him a good hard head-slap.

"Hey!" Tony yelped. "What was that –"

"You know exactly what that's for, DiNozzo."


	13. Family and Friends

DISCLAIMER : I don't own any of NCIS.

_**

* * *

**_

Chapter 12 : Family and Friends

"He really beat me up," Tony whined pathetically, rubbing the back of his head tenderly as Gibbs left with Ducky.

"Oh, you will be fine," Ziva said with a laugh, taking a bite of her apple. "You have developed a callus there, trust me."

"I don't like you anymore, you're not sympathetic," Tony whined again. Ziva rolled her eyes, got up from her chair and crossed over to his desk, kissing the back of his head briefly.

"You will be fine," she repeated, lightly slapping his cheek before she returned to her desk and picked up her ringing phone. "Officer David."

"So why did Gibbs slap you, again?" McGee asked, casting a momentary curious glance at Ziva when her conversation switched into Hebrew.

Tony paused for a second. "I don't know, probie," he replied finally. "I think he just likes hitting me."

"Mmm, no, I think you're hiding something," McGee replied.

"Paranoia will get you nowhere, probie," Tony said delicately.

* * *

"He _what_?" Gibbs demanded Ducky in the elevator.

"Jethro, please do _not_ overreact," Ducky said again, futilely as he saw the protective-father look come into Gibbs' eyes. "She doesn't know I've told you."

"God! Have I taught them _nothing_?" Gibbs muttered furiously, slamming the elevator into service again. He stormed out of the elevator, still muttering, "First DiNozzo, now McGee… what next, Palmer?"

As he entered the bullpen again, he said sharply, "McGee!"

"Uh, yeah, boss?" McGee asked immediately, jumping to attention.

"Come here," Gibbs said pointedly. Once McGee had scrambled over, he head-slapped McGee. Hard. Twice. On each side of his head.

"Uh-um-um, boss?"

"You know _exactly_ what that's for, McGee," Gibbs said darkly.

"But-but-but Tony only got one!" McGee protested. Gibbs raised an eyebrow and then headed for Abby's lab without a word said. "Right," McGee muttered, sitting back down. "She's not Abby."

"What did _you_ do to Abby, McGee?" Tony asked interestedly, leaning forward with his chin resting on his hand.

"Probably the same thing you did, Tony," Ziva replied, a slight smile working its way onto her face as she hung up the phone. "So, McGee, _you_ are the culprit."

"W-w-w-wait, how do _you_ know?" McGee stammered, paling.

"I am an investigator, McGee, it is my job to observe."

"Uh, did I get left out of the guest list for this?" Tony asked blankly.

"Clearly," Ziva said with a smile, getting up. "If anybody asks, I am in MTAC on tele-conference with Tel Aviv." She tapped his nose lightly. "Do not interrupt."

* * *

"No, really, Gibbs, it's all cool," Abby said again, turning to her mass spectrometer. "We've totally figured this whole… thing… out."

"Abby, I don't want to hear excuses and fake assurances," Gibbs replied. "Did he or did he not –"

"Gibbs, this is McGee," Abby said with a roll of her eyes, looking at him again. "If anybody forced anything, it was me."

"You just say the word, Abs, and –"

"Oh, Gibbs, you didn't hurt him, did you?" Abby asked suddenly. "Tell me you didn't hurt him, Gibbs, because he's been totally –" she stopped when Gibbs leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Just checking, Abby," Gibbs said quietly. "Congratulations." Abby smiled at him tentatively. "When?"

"Um, we think November," Abby replied, twirling the end of a pigtail around her finger.

"And?" Gibbs probed, just as McGee entered the lab. Immediately, the young agent began stammering nervously until Gibbs shook his head. "Spit it out, McGee."

"Abby," McGee said, a slight smile making its way onto his face, "we got it."

Abby immediately squealed in excitement and threw her arms around McGee's neck. "Did we seriously? Please tell me we really did, because that was a totally sweet basement and it's perfect, well, it will be after some paint jobs and –"

"Yep, we really did," McGee replied, returning the hug. "The other buyers backed off."

"When do we move in? When can I start painting? I want to start painting, Tim –"

Gibbs chuckled, shook his head and left the lab. Somewhere along the lines of life, Rule Number Twelve had become obsolete.

* * *

_"Are you trying to tell me that you had no idea of your charge's whereabouts, Officer David?"_

Ziva sighed in frustration. How many times had she said the same thing in the last five hours? She was tired, she was starving and she was getting scared. They couldn't touch her in America, but if they declared her negligent in duties while she had been Ari's control officer… they could extradite her back to Israel, try her. "How many times have I said this by now, Officer Galiel?"

_"Not enough, Officer David. Did you have any indication that Agent Gibbs was planning on murdering Ari?"_

"Would I have left Ari unguarded if I had?" Ziva asked rhetorically, looking behind her briefly as the doors to MTAC opened. Tony nodded silently, held up a bag of lunch and a drink and set them down on a seat, backing out. He held up his keys and mimicked a cell phone at his ear. 'I'm going home, call me when you're done.'

Some days she thought she loved the man. Today she knew it.

* * *

Ziva was awakened by the sound of her cell phone ringing. Jumping awake, she grabbed it and flipped it open. "Davidshalom," she said rapidly, sitting up to find MTAC deserted.

_"Ziva, where are you? It's 0500!"_

"I… I am in MTAC, Tony," she replied. "I must have fallen asleep here after we finished."

_"Are you all right?"_

"I am fine, Tony, sorry. We did not finish until about 0400."

_"Well, find a couch somewhere to sleep on, all right? Those chairs aren't good for you. Did you eat?"_

"Yes, thank you," she murmured, standing up and heading down the deserted staircase. "How bad was it last night?"

_"We managed. I think I might have been ridiculed to no end by your brother…"_

Ziva laughed. "No, he likes you, Tony."

* * *

Tony sighed and shook his head as he came into the bullpen to find Ziva still passed out on the floor behind her desk. He had specifically said 'couch'. But at least she had a sweater of his rolled up as a pillow and a blanket over top. "Ziva," he whispered, kneeling down next to her. "Ziva. Ziva. _Officer David!_"

But even the 'fake Gibbs' order didn't wake her. She swatted drowsily at his hand and mumbled a threat in Hebrew when he reached to rouse her.

"Leave her, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered as he walked in. "Director Shepard told me it was 0400 when Tel Aviv finally quit."

McGee walked in, grinning. "I have a new house as of June 6, guys. Brand-new house, never been lived in. What's wrong with Ziva?"

"She's tired, probie," Tony said protectively, getting to his feet. "If there's one thing I've learnt, it's let sleeping Zivas lie."

"I thought the expression was dogs," Ziva said from behind him as she sat up slowly.

"It is," Tony replied, offering her a hand. "Enjoy your nap?"

"I did, actually," Ziva replied, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

"I said 'couch', not 'floor'."

"Did you bring me a change of clothes?"

Tony held out a gym bag, and Ziva took it, heading for the gym to shower and change.

"So would you two like to put it out in the open?" Gibbs asked once Ziva had disappeared into the elevator.

"What?" Tony and McGee asked in unison.

"Don't make me head-slap you both," Gibbs threatened. "Just because we say it now doesn't mean we formalize it now, if that's what you're worried about, Tony."

"Easy for you to say, you don't have to live with her," Tony muttered darkly.

McGee looked at Gibbs. "You mean, about –"

"Yeah, McGee, everything."

"You first," McGee said immediately to Tony. "Yours can't be any more difficult to explain than mine."

"I have nothing to –" Tony began to claim, when Gibbs nearly cracked his head open. "All right, all right! We're moving. On the fifth of June."

"And?"

"And?" Tony ducked another head-slap. "All right, all right, and Ziva's pregnant."

"See?" Gibbs said, dusting off his hands. "That wasn't so hard."

"So what do you have to divulge, McGeek?" Tony asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"Um…" McGee started to say. "Uh, Abby's pregnant too."

"Abby? Abby Sciuto, the NCIS mistress of the dark?" Tony asked in astonishment. "By wh… oh, come on, McGee!" he exclaimed when McGee pointed at himself slightly guiltily.

"We bought one of those new houses in the east end," McGee said. "We get possession on the 6th."

"Down in that Whiteshell development?" Tony asked. "So did we. We go in on the 5th."

"1362 Osborne Crescent," McGee confirmed, looking at Tony askance when the older agent let out a strangled yelp.

"You're joking. We bought 1363," Tony said. "I get to live next door to Probie?"

Gibbs laughed and shook his head.

* * *

"So I heard about you and McGee," Ziva commented to Abby as she leaned back against the counter in the forensics lab. "_Mazel tov_. When?"

"How does everybody find out so fast around here?" Abby mused. "November," she added. "What about you?"

"How do you know?" Ziva asked warily.

"You think I haven't noticed how much of a fusspot Tony's been over you?"

Ziva sighed and conceded Abby's point. "November as well. It is a boy."

"We don't know yet," Abby admitted. "Tim wants it to be a surprise, but I want to know."

"Have you told your families yet?" Ziva asked.

"Well, Tim of course spilled everything to Sarah, who now hates my guts for deflowering her brother," Abby replied with a roll of her eyes. "I haven't figured out how to break it to mine yet. What about you and Tony?"

Ziva laughed. "We have not told his mother. It will be a fun revelation. She hates me."

"Mmm, and clearly you're not going anywhere now," Abby laughed. "Do your sister and brother know?"

Ziva shook her head.

* * *

"So McGee and Abby are moving in across the street," Tony commented to Ziva that night, Ziva stretched out lazily on the bed, arms behind her head and eyes closed. "At the new house. The day after we do."

"Convenient," Ziva said.

"More like creepy. I don't know that I like the thought of living across the street from Probie and the Mistress of Darkness."

"Why, are you planning on becoming a desperate househusband and spying on them from the kitchen window?" Ziva asked teasingly.

Tony grinned and swung over her, relishing the warmth of her skin, the scent of her hair, the curves of her body against his… her hands curled around the front of his t-shirt, pulling him in as his own hands started to slide under her back, lifting her slightly from the bed as he kissed her.

He let out a startled yell of pain as he felt his hair get yanked nearly out of his head. Ziva jumped into an upright sitting position, pulling Matai off of her husband.

"Matai, what possessed you to do that?" Ziva demanded, grabbing her little brother by the shoulders and forcing him to look at her as Tony rolled off the bed to his feet and stumbled into the attached bathroom to inspect the damage done.

"I won't let him hurt you, Ziva!" Matai cried, struggling to free himself from her grip.

Very, _very_ confused, Ziva said, "I appreciate the thought, Matai, but he wasn't hurting me. He wasn't going to hurt me. What made you think he was?"

Matai stared at her for a second, confusion in his own eyes. "Because… because that was what Hamas did. That was what they did right before they…"

Paling with shock, Ziva let Matai crawl into her arms and cry, wrapping him up tight and rocking him. "Shh, _mazik_, you don't need to say it. Ziva knows. Ziva knows…"

"That's why Ahava screams at night," Matai whispered, his arms holding his knees tightly to his chest.

* * *

Man, that kid had a grip, Tony thought ruefully to himself as he tried to inspect the red patch on the back of his head. He was going to grow up and be as dangerous as his sister if Tony wasn't careful.

Looking behind him, he watched Ziva rock Matai, whispering something into his ear as he cried. At some point in the last five minutes, Ahava had crawled up onto the bed next to Ziva. He came back into the bedroom quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Hamas raped them, didn't they?" he asked softly.

Ziva nodded silently, and Tony could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "How am I supposed to explain it to them, Tony?" she asked. "They are just children."

Tony sighed. "If I give it a try, can you translate for me?" Ziva nodded again. "All right." He looked at Ahava, who was watching him suspiciously. "Guys, you need to understand. What Hamas did to you was very wrong. It's… it's not something that any person should force on another, regardless of their age _or_ their gender."

* * *

It took, between Tony and Ziva, the better part of two _very_ embarrassing hours to try and explain the difference between sexual assault and consensual romance.

Finally, they managed to succeed, and Ziva sent both kids back off to bed with a kiss and an admonishment to _knock_ next time.

"So why didn't you tell me about Haswari?" Tony asked, internally cringing when he felt her stiffen next to him. "Were you embarrassed, because you had no reason to be…"

"Do you remember what the first thing you said to me about Ari was, Tony?" Ziva asked softly, tracing absentminded patterns on his chest.

"Remind me," Tony said as he combed his fingers through her hair.

"'I want the bastard dead, too,'" Ziva answered, her voice shaking slightly.

"Oh, come on, Ziva, the bas–" Tony stopped himself.

"Say it."

"The bastard had just killed my teammate. Of course I said that. I still don't regret saying that. I can't say I'm not glad he's dead."

"But that is exactly it, Tony," Ziva said in frustration. "You knew Haswari. The terrorist, the traitor. That… that monster was _not_ Ari. That was _not_ my brother." She took a deep breath. "Maybe Haswari could torture and kill. Ari… never." Nestling her head into the curve of his neck, she whispered, "I could never kill my brother –"

"You didn't," Tony murmured into her ear as she began to fall asleep. "Gibbs killed him."

"– I killed a monster."


	14. Deportation

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

* * *

**_Chapter 13: Deportation_**

_One month later:_

"Matai!" Ziva yelled after her brother as the young boy let out a yell of excitement, tore off outside into the backyard and started climbing up into the branches of the tree. "How did I not see that one coming when we got the house?" she muttered. "Tony! Tony, would you get him d–" She stopped when she caught sight of Tony already perched about three branches above Matai. "Never mind."

But she couldn't stop a smile from crossing her face as she watched Tony haul Matai up beside him and hold him steady on the branch, the two solitary boys already deep in two one-sided conversations about building a tree house.

_

* * *

_

"Ari, Ari, you're here!" 7-year-old Ziva squealed excitedly as the front door opened. "Ari, come see, I found the perfect tree!"

_"For what, _ohktee_?" 18-year-old Ari asked, setting down his bags. Ari was going to be in Tel Aviv for a whole month, before he left for Edinburgh. Edinburgh was very far away, Papa had said, even farther than Gaza._

_"For our _fort_, Ari!" Ziva said impatiently, tugging at his shirt hem. He was so tall, this brother of hers… "The one you promised! Come see, Ari, it's so perfect!"_

_"Ari," her mother said as she appeared in the doorway with Tali sleeping against her shoulder, "Shmuel would like to see you."_

_"Ari…" Ziva begged._

_Ari stopped for a second. "Tell Father I'm out back with Ziva," he said finally, and let Ziva pull him out onto the back deck and down the stairs into the edges of the David property._

_"See?" Ziva said, eyes sparkling as she stopped in front of a sycamore with plenty of low, sturdy branches. "Even Tali could climb into this one!"_

_"Hmm…" Ari mused, swinging up into the higher branches. "I like this one. Good choice, _ohktee_. We could put the structure there," he waved down at the gathering of the lower branches. "And up here could be a deck of sorts… and right up top…" He started to climb up even higher._

_"Ari, stop, I can't climb that high!" Ziva complained, reaching in vain for the next branch. "Ari, come down!"_

_Ari looked down momentarily and then sat on the topmost branch, reaching down. He managed to hook his hands under her arms and lifted Ziva up to the branch. "There you are, wild one," he laughed, settling her down and wrapping a protective arm around her waist. "A view fit for a king."_

_"Or a queen!"_

_"Or a queen," Ari conceded, mussing her hair affectionately. Then he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly into her ear as he caught her hand tightly in his own._

_Ziva nodded without hesitation._

_"Then jump. I won't let you fall."_

* * *

"The both of you, get down from there!" Ziva called, repeating the order in both English and Hebrew and catching Melanie in her free arm before she went crashing down the stairs of the deck. "Everybody will be arriving soon! Tony, do _not_ –" But Tony was already swinging Matai down to the next branch. "If he breaks his neck, it will be on _your_ head, Anthony DiNozzo!"

"He won't crack his skull, Ziva, relax!" Tony called back. "I won't let him fall!"

"I once knew a man in Edinburgh who said the same thing," came Ducky's jovial voice from the back door of the house as he entered with Palmer and Lee. "He spent over twelve hours in the emergency room having his son's head sutured."

"I did not need to know that, Ducky," Ziva groaned, just as Matai landed safely on the ground and Tony jumped down after him.

"Hey, Ducky, Palmer, Lee," Tony greeted, dusting off his jeans. "Matt and I were just plotting terrain."

"Ah, yes, the elusive tree-house of youth," Ducky laughed.

"Good luck beating the one in Tel Aviv," Ziva told Tony with a laugh, passing Alexa to him. "Ahava," she continued, looking at her sister, who was curled up on the porch swing with a book, "put the book away. What is that, any way?"

"It's homework," Ahava said. "I have to finish up to Chapter Five for Monday. Before I do, though, Ziva, can you help me with this page? I don't understand all the words."

Ziva shook her head in affectionate exasperation. "For the girl who said she didn't want to learn English, you certainly picked up on it fast. Let's see."

_Officer Lisa was on her first stakeout…_

"That one," Ahava said, pointing to 'stakeout'. "I don't understand what that is. And if I break into two words, it doesn't make sense…"

"What are you doing reading Deep Six?" Ziva exclaimed in surprise.

Ahava shrugged. "I thought the cover looked interesting."

* * *

"She's 13, and she's reading Deep Six?" Abby asked, a little impressed. "In English?"

"She's smarter than she lets on, that one," Tony commented, stretching slightly on the couch. "I'm reasonably certain that she doesn't speak English just to frustrate me."

* * *

"Ziva," Tony said tiredly as he followed his wife from bedroom to bedroom after their teammates and colleagues had all gone home. "Ziva, they're fine."

Ziva turned around and gave him a withering glare as she knelt to tuck Matai's blankets in around him again. "Indulge me," she said. "Old habits do not live easily."

"Die hard," Tony corrected with a sigh. "Old habits die hard." A slight smile cracked his exhausted face as Ziva swatted him with one of her little brother's shirts.

"I was close enough, yes?"

* * *

Tony groaned as he woke up slowly. Reaching for Ziva gave his drowsy arms nothing to hold. Rolling over to squint at the clock, he groaned again. 2 AM. 2 AM, what was she doing at 2 AM?

Mumbling under his breath, Tony got out of bed, stumbling out towards the living room with one hand on the wall as guidance and support. He found her standing by the front window, looking out into the dark street. "Ziva, it's 2 in the morning. Come to bed, _amore_."

Ziva took a deep, shaky breath. "Come here a moment, Tony," she said softly. Once he had obediently come, she looked back out the window. "Do you see the sedan parked about two doors down from McGee and Abby's? The one with the tinted windows, the dark one between streetlamps?"

Tony looked out. "Yeah, I think so."

"It has been there for two days, Tony." She closed her fingers around the handgrip of her gun, holding on stubbornly even as Tony tried to gently pry her hand off.

"It's probably just guests, Ziva. At one of the other houses on the street." He sighed and kissed her neck. "Stop worrying, _amore_. You're not in Tel Aviv. There's nobody out to get you."

The way she twisted around to look at him with those eyes nearly broke his heart: the eyes that said how much she wanted to believe his placating words. Wanted to believe that she had no enemies, no possible stalkers. Wanted to believe everything he said.

"Come to bed," he repeated softly, kissing her neck again. "I'll keep you safe."

* * *

And as she lay in his arms that night, the curves of her body more prominent tonight than they had been four short weeks ago, Tony remembered her tearful confession and how the long-term ramifications of her brother's death haunted her. She was truly convinced that Mossad would send _metzada _after her for doing the two things a control officer never should do: lose control of their charge, and harm their charge. She was convinced that Hamas or Al Qaeda would track her down for killing her traitorous moles.

And no matter how long he whispered soothing, meaningless words into her ear, no matter how close he held her or how many times he laid soft kisses on her face, she could not seem to stop shaking.

* * *

They were all in the bullpen doing paperwork when the officials came. Tony had been teasing Ziva all morning, trying futilely to get her to relax a little. But apparently it was all for naught, as the men introduced themselves as USCIS officials and explained in very calm, rational voices, that Mossad had withdrawn her work visa. She had 24 hours to return to Tel Aviv.

And Tony, in a very calm, rational voice, told them where to shove their procedures and policies. She had a K-3. She was married to a US citizen. And they, in reply, very calmly informed him that that one had been yanked as well because of an outstanding warrant in Israel.

And Gibbs, in a voice not unlike the voice of God in His entire mighty wrath, told them to go screw themselves, because Ziva was going nowhere.

But in the end, bureaucracy overpowered passion, and for the second time in his life, Tony could do nothing but watch helplessly as Ziva was removed from his life once more with his child.

* * *

"Where is Ziva?" the young woman asked as Tony yanked open the door to Mitzvot Academy. This must have been Rachel, Ziva's old school friend.

"She's been deported to Tel Aviv," Tony said curtly. "Where are Ahava and Matai?"

"Why?" Rachel asked in surprise.

"Where are they?"

* * *

Both younger Davids seem to figure out that Tony wasn't in the mood to play 'guess what I'm saying', and both tried their hardest to be on their best behaviour and test out their English.

He hadn't realized until that evening just how much they relied on Ziva around their house.

"Ziva, come– um, go, um, le…" Matai tried as Tony was trying to pull the word for 'bedtime' out of his meagre vocabulary. "_Efo Ziva?_" he asked desperately, finally giving up in frustration.

"Yeah, I got that one, Matt," Tony sighed, giving up his struggle as well and pointing to Matai's bed. "Ziva's in Tel Aviv."

"_Lama Tel Aviv?_"

"Oh, I'm not even going to try."

* * *

Ahava was a little easier to understand.

"Sh-she come back, _ken_?" she asked, stumbling slightly over her words.

"Yeah," Tony said with a nod of his head just in case she didn't catch the word. "I don't know when, though."

"Soon," Ahava said semi-confidently. "Ziva _le'olam lo_… um, no? _Lo_, _lo nachon_, um… never!" Her eyes lit up momentarily at striking the right word. "_Ken_, Ziva never go no us." The young girl's eyes told him that she knew her sentence made no logical sense, but as Tony ran the sentence through his internal decoder, he thought he knew what she was saying.

"Ziva would never leave us," he said slowly. "You're right." He paused, trying to remember what Ziva said when she was complimenting them. "_Tov me'od?_" he tried.

Ahava's face brightened at that venture. "_Ken_. Very good."

Tony couldn't stop the laugh from escaping. "_Laila tov_, Ahava."


	15. The Unmarked Parcel

DISCLAIMER : I don't own any of NCIS.

* * *

**_Chapter 14: The Unmarked Parcel_**

"Ava! Matt! C'mon, we have to get going!" Tony called, getting Alexa's coat on.

It had been over three months since Ziva's deportation. Tel Aviv was so tight on her security that they had heard from her maybe twice, and for five minutes each time. It didn't sound good, even though Ziva was clearly trying to stay positive for their sake.

Today was the first day back at 'real school' after the summer of 'English school', and they were already running horribly late for life. Melanie and Alexa were supposed to have been at his mother's half an hour ago, he had forty-five minutes to drop Ahava and Matai off at two different base schools and one hour to get to the Navy Yard and his desk before Gibbs bit his head off.

"Ava, put the book away, we have to leave now," Tony ordered, shutting _Rock Hollow: the continuing adventures of L.J. Tibbs_ despite her yelping protests. "Coat. Shoes. _Achshav_. Matt, your schoolbag."

The phone rang noisily and Tony called a reprimand futilely after Melanie, who was running to answer it. The little girl chose to ignore him, managed to yank the cordless from its cradle and pressed the 'talk' button. "Hello." She paused a moment and then her face burst into a radiant smile. "Ima!"

There was a mad dash by the elders of the house for the phone at that exclamation. Tony, of course, being the oldest and longest-armed, grabbed the receiver and brought it to his ear. "Hey, sweetcheeks, long time no talk."

_"I am sorry, Tony, I know you must be on your way out the door…" _Ziva's apologetic voice came crackling over the poor connection. _"But this was when I was allowed to phone, and…"_

"Ah, I'm never too rushed to talk to you, _amore_," Tony replied, stepping out of Matai's reach as the two David children tried to pull the phone from his ear. "Hey, hey, stop it, you two. How are you feeling?"

_"Tired. Bored. Frustrated. They confiscated my weapons."_

Tony couldn't stop the laugh at that statement. "She doesn't even have her gun to clean…"

_"Exactly, Tony, I am going mad here!"_

"Just keep hanging in there, Ziva, Jenny's working on it. We all are. You still in IDF custody?"

_"They were considering a good-faith release yesterday morning. I am still confined to Tel Aviv, but I can otherwise go about freely."_

"Well, that's encouraging," Tony offered lamely. "How are you _really_ doing, Ziva?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. _"I want to come home, Tony."_

"I know, Ziva."

* * *

"You're late, DiNozzo," Gibbs said tersely as Tony walked into the bullpen.

"Sorry, boss, got a bit of a late start this morning and then Ziva called just as we were leaving."

"How's she doing?" McGee asked, looking up from his paperwork. "By the way, I really appreciated the party in your house last night. Abby and I both didn't get any sleep."

"It was Rock Band, okay, and it was me, Ava and Matt," Tony replied. "Hardly a party."

"It's astounding that any of you get any sleep on that street," Jen said with a shake of her head, standing at the handrail just as Cynthia arrived at her side. "Between Tony and Abby…"

"MTAC is ready for you, Director."

"Thank you, Cynthia. Let them know I will be there shortly." She paused and then looked back at Tony. "You said Ziva called you?"

"Just this morning," Tony confirmed. "She said that IDF was thinking of letting her out on a good-faith bail."

"Really?" Jen asked, a gleam in her eyes for a moment. "That's encouraging."

_

* * *

_

Ziva could hardly believe her luck. Out on good-faith, but without guards or any sort of monitoring device? Adonai really was smiling on her. And that quiet murmur from the guard who had accompanied her out of IDF holding into the streets: "The American military base is a twenty-minute walk north of here." A hint? A suggestion? A trap?

_"You must be Officer David," said the young lieutenant as Ziva stepped onto the Marine base cautiously. "Director Shepard in Washington told us to expect you. Come with me," he added. "You've got a long journey ahead of you."_

* * *

"Tony," Ahava asked that night, as she looked up from her book. "Have you read Deep Six and Rock Hollow?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Tony replied dryly, pacing around the living room to try and lull Alexa into sleep.

"Who do Officer Lisa and Agent Tommy remind you of?" she asked.

"Nobody, they're fiction, Ava," he replied a little too quickly.

Ahava's eyes lit up and she exclaimed something in Hebrew. "You know Thom E. Gemcity?!" she asked eagerly.

Tony groaned under his breath. "Yeah, sort of."

_

* * *

_

Ziva took a deep breath to calm herself and put a hand against the wall of her prison to steady herself. With a soft prayer for protection, she listened the sounds of trucks loading, starting, driving off.

_"Where's this one headed, Lieutenant Colonel?" came a man's call from just outside._

_"That one's going to Kandahar, Captain."_

_"Oh, dear God, Kandahar?" she whispered. "If we make it out of Israel, I am a very dead Jew." Pulling the blanket around her shoulders, Ziva closed her eyes and murmured, "I hope you know what you're doing, Jen."_

_

* * *

_

"Officer David?" came the quiet voice of the captain driving the transport truck. "We've arrived."

_He opened the doors of the storage unit, stepping aside to let her through. "Stretch your legs a bit, Officer David. We'll have you at the USAF base in a bit, and they'll fly you somewhere else. You're out of Israel now. Just have to stay one step ahead of Mossad until you're back Stateside."_

_

* * *

_

Ziva had gone through Israel, Afghanistan, Japan, South Korea, Spain, Italy, Germany, Russia with every US military detachment possible and had just landed in England in USAF custody when she felt the first contractions hit.

_"Damn it," the commander muttered as the on-base doctor was brought with quiet urgency. "The flight to Limay leaves in six hours."_

_"Delay it," the doctor said firmly. "She's not going anywhere for another few days."_

* * *

Tony couldn't sleep that night. He tossed and turned, having the weirdest feeling that Ziva needed him. Maybe he was turning into Gibbs, with his gut…

His arms wanted a warm body to encircle. His skin wanted the soft tickle of breath against it. His lips wanted smooth skin to kiss and taste. His nose wanted the subtle scent of spices and perfume.

It was her birthday. It was her birthday, and he wasn't there with her to tease her mercilessly about the importance of birthday kisses and to kiss her 31 times, with her fingers weaving through his hair and teasing him with her body as she made him count and recount his kisses until they both ran out of restraint.

* * *

To Tony's surprise, Gibbs came right over when he called, even though it was 1 AM.

"I… I just don't know, boss, it's like telepathy or something," Tony said shakily, running a hand tiredly through his hair.

Gibbs looked at him briefly. "Wasn't the baby due sometime soon?" he asked quietly. Tony nodded, struck again by the helplessness of his situation. "You know, DiNozzo, when I was in Panama… I had a night like this. I found out a few days later that Kelly was born that night."

"Doesn't really help me any, boss."

_

* * *

_

"Call ahead to Limay, Sergeant, let them know that the unmarked parcel is en route again and prepare for immediate transfer to Gitmo."

_Ziva sighed as she leaned back against the wall of her familiar prison, still exhausted and slightly panic-stricken. She had Maialen sleeping peacefully in one carrier beside her and Asher enveloped safely in her arms, feeding him with a soft whisper of reassurance as the plane began to taxi out. "You'll see, little ones," she whispered to them. "We'll be home soon."_

_

* * *

_

For safety reasons, the Marines didn't let her out at Guantanamo Bay. Too many Arab terrorists, too much risk that word of the missing Mossad escapee would reach Mossad ears before she was back in America.

_Worriedly, Ziva tried to regulate the temperature inside her prison, stroking Maialen's cheek soothingly as her newborn daughter let out a little whine of discomfort. It was too hot, too humid in here. It wasn't good for the babies._

_"I'm sorry, Officer David," came a man's voice from outside. "You're going to have to try and keep them quiet until the plane is in the air. The next stop is Washington. You're almost home."_

_Ziva bit her lip and lifted Maialen from her carrier, laying the infant down on her pillow, which still had some semblance of cool. "Shh, my girl, hush," she soothed, undoing the snaps on her sleeper. "It won't be long. It won't be long now…" She pulled the sleeper, damp with sweat, off of her daughter. Maialen whimpered again, squirming under Ziva's gentle hands._

_"Director Shepard?" the same man's voice echoed from further in the warehouse._

_"Yes, General?" Jen's voice came over a speaker of some kind._

_"Your package arrived in Gitmo an hour ago," he reported. "We're loading it onto the next transport as we speak."_

_"Excellent!" Jen said, and Ziva could hear the delight in her voice. "I'll arrange for it to be taken directly to NCIS once the transport lands in Washington. The parcel is still intact?"_

_"Well, it's actually going back in three pieces, Director. Broke in transit. Nothing a little Crazy Glue wouldn't fix, though."_

_"Three?"_

_"Three."_

_"Not two?"_

_"Three."_

_

* * *

_

December 19, 2011:

Tony was thoroughly depressed when he managed to drag himself into the bullpen. It had been six months to the day since Ziva's deportation. Three months to the day since he had last talked to her. It was Christmas in six days, Chanukah tomorrow (or so claimed Ahava and Matai). She wasn't here. She was unreachable in Tel Aviv.

Sighing, he dropped to his chair and laid his head down on the desk. Why had nobody ever warned him that trying to run two holidays simultaneously in the same house was next to impossible? He knew the Christmas routine. He had that one down. But this whole Chanukah thing? He had figured out the candles thing – seemed like every Jewish holiday included candles in some way, shape or form.

"Oh, Tony," came Jen's voice as she appeared at his desk. "Can you go sign for a shipment for me? Marine transport just took it off a plane from Guantanamo Bay, it's in receiving. I need somebody with security clearance to supervise the unloading. I'd go myself, but I have an MTAC transmission with Tel Aviv."

"Tell that damn director I want my wife and son back," Tony growled.

"Receiving, Tony, please," Jen said gently. "I'll pass that message on."

"Fine," Tony grumbled.

"Oh, and would you bring the shipment up to my office after you've signed for it?" Jen requested. "Don't worry about not opening it, you've got enough clearance."

* * *

Tony muttered under his breath curses against all Israeli authorities as he yanked open the door to receiving. "Where's the shipment for Director Shepard?" he asked.

"Right here, sir, this box here," the young Marine said immediately, holding out a clipboard. "Just sign right there and print the last name for records."

Tony scribbled _DiNozzo_ on the line, dashed off a passable signature and turned to the metal shipping container with a thoughtful expression. "Now how am I supposed to get _you_ up to the director's office?"

He jumped and yanked his gun out of his holster when the doors of the container began to open. "Federal agent, freeze!"

"Tony…"

That was all he needed to hear.

* * *

"Tony," she gasped as they broke another kiss. "Tony, maybe we should…"

"Oh, thank you, God, thank you, God, not a scratch on you," Tony murmured again, cupping her face in his hands. "Well," he added mischievously as he swept her up into his arms, "_you_ I can carry up to Jen's office."

"Tony, let me down," she ordered, lightly smacking his cheek. "Come see your babies."

"What do you mean, 'babies'?" Tony asked warily, even as Ziva was pulling him into the box.

"Well, apparently the doctor missed one," Ziva replied casually, lifting up Asher from his carrier and carefully placing him into Tony's waiting arms before she scooped up Maialen. "Can we… leave now? I have spent two months in this box, I really do not…"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, of course," Tony said suddenly, grabbing the carriers onto his free arm.

* * *

"Thank you, Jen," Tony said obligingly as Jen gave him a knowing smile.

"And you were doubting me," she laughed, before she picked up her pile of folders and her briefcase. "Well, I'll be in MTAC. Stay here as long as you like."

Tony nodded distractedly, now cradling both of his infants in his arms. Both of their children had inherited Ziva's flawless dark skin and her dark hair, but while Asher had his mother's sultry dark eyes, Maialen had his own smoky blue eyes.

"I noticed you gave them names I can cut in half and pronounce properly," Tony commented quietly, only to realize that Ziva had fallen asleep against his shoulder. Smiling softly, Tony laid a gentle kiss on top of her head and leaned back into the couch.

* * *

"DiNozzo, where have you been?" came Gibbs' irritated demand as Tony came into the bullpen. "The day's almost done."

When their boss had looked up from his computer, Tony grinned at him and set Asher's carrier down on his desk. "Look what Santa brought me for Christmas."

Gibbs got up from his desk as Ziva and Maialen came in, a smile crossing his face. "Ziva…"

"Gibbs," Ziva replied with a smile as she allowed Gibbs to wrap her into a fatherly hug.

"I take it you were Director Shepard's 'unmarked, highly-sensitive package'?" Gibbs asked. Ziva nodded. "Good to have you home, Ziva."

"Good to be home, Gibbs," Ziva replied.


	16. Come What May

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

_**

* * *

**_

Chapter 15: Come What May

"Tony," came Ahava's query as she pulled open the passenger seat door. "May I –" She stopped in mid-sentence and squealed, "Ziva!!" She threw her arms around her sister's neck. "Ziva, you're back! Ziva, you're home!" Excitedly, she kissed Ziva's cheek and then jumped into the second row of seats in the back. "Ziva, what –"

"Asher and Maialen," Ziva replied, twisting around in her seat.

"Seatbelt on, Ava," Tony ordered. He rolled his eyes at Ziva when he heard Ahava cooing adoringly at one of the newborns in Hebrew from over the back of the bench. "Ava," he repeated. "Seatbelt. Now. _Ava_!"

"Oh, right," Ahava said suddenly, clicking her seatbelt on.

* * *

"ZIVA!" Matai exclaimed, catching Ziva in a stranglehold. "You're home, you're home, you're home in time for Chanukah!"

"Mmm, you're right, it _is_ the start of Chanukah tomorrow, isn't it?" Ziva laughed, kissing his forehead and then shooing him to the backseat. "Go sit, seatbelt on."

"We don't have anything ready yet, Ziva," Ahava piped up. "Tony couldn't figure out…"

Ziva rolled her eyes and delivered a light slap to Tony's cheek. "You are lucky I came today. They never would have forgiven you if you had abandoned Chanukah. Like telling Melanie there is no Christmas, yes?"

"So we'll –" Matai started to ask in unison with Ahava asking,

"Can we –"

"I will call you both in absent tomorrow and you can come with me to do the shopping," Ziva replied indulgently. There was a shout of delight in stereo from the back and she said sharply, "Hey! _M'yashnim tinokot_!" (The babies are sleeping!)

"_Tzar li_, Ziva."

* * *

"May I hold her, Ziva?" Ahava requested that night as she watched Ziva rock Maialen. "I'll be careful."

Ziva checked on the little infant girl draped against her shoulder. "Are you asleep yet?" she whispered to her daughter. As if in response, Maialen cooed and squirmed. "Sit, Ahava," she ordered, pointing at the couch.

Ahava's eyes lit up and she sat down immediately, reaching her arms out. She took the baby, curving both arms carefully around her.

"Careful with her head," Ziva warned, adjusting Ahava's hold gently.

"She's so small, Ziva," Ahava breathed. Instinctively, she froze when Maialen started squirming again. She cast a quick, frightened glance at her sister.

"Relax, she's all right," Ziva reassured her, sitting down next to Ahava. "Just bounce her a little. _Gently_," she added.

The doorbell rang just then, and Tony emerged from the hallway, heading for the front door with Asher asleep in one arm. "Ava, bed. C'mon, you know better than that."

Ahava gave Maialen back to Ziva and went off to her bedroom just as Tony opened the door to find McGee and Abby outside.

"Hey, guys," Tony greeted, stepping aside to let them in.

"Sorry about coming so late, but Tim wanted to see Ziva," Abby said brightly. Ziva got up from the couch and joined Tony, giving them both a smile as she settled Maialen more comfortably in her arms. "Eeek, Ziva, twins?"

"She was the one who ingested five Caff-Pows and insisted on seeing her _tonight_," McGee admitted with a roll of his eyes as he resettled his tiny daughter against his shoulder. "Good to see you back, Ziva."

"I did not see you today at NCIS," Ziva commented.

Tony laughed. "Our little McGeek is on parental leave," he informed Ziva, sliding his free arm around her waist.

"I trust _him_ with this baby more than I trust any temp worker with my babies at the lab," Abby explained with a laugh.

* * *

Tony let Ziva go to bed – the poor woman was literally ready to keel over by the time McGee and Abby had left. Pulling aside the curtain, he looked down the street. The dark sedan still sat outside, like a menacing guard. It had disappeared with Ziva when she had been deported – he had assumed it was USCIS, gathering information. But if it was back now…

He sighed as he started the rounds, resolving to ask Jenny about it tomorrow.

* * *

In the relatively small room on the main floor, partly hidden beneath the staircase, Ava was sleeping. She was curled up underneath her blankets, head resting on her book and dark curls tumbling across her face.

She was such a puzzle, this young teenage sister-in-law of his. She loved being here, but she hated being in America. She loved learning languages, but she hated speaking them. She wanted to stay, but she wanted to leave.

It was hard to see how the little bookworm and the assassin had come from the same genetic material. He wouldn't know – maybe she had just given up on trying to live up to the legacy left behind by an older brother and three older sisters.

She was so quiet, he mused as he carefully tugged the book out from her hand, placed the bookmark inside and set it down on her bedside table. She was so quiet, so compliant and yet had such a strange, exotic magnetism… he or Ziva were going to have to give her the 'men are bastards' talk relatively soon. Wasn't looking forward to that talk at all…

Ava moaned and shifted. She mumbled something in Hebrew, reaching for her book blindly.

"Go back to sleep, Ava," Tony whispered. "You can read it tomorrow." He laid a light kiss on her forehead – the forehead was the only spot both she and Matt allowed him to kiss, thanks to Hamas – and stood up again.

"_Laila tov_, Tony…" she mumbled again, curling up tighter beneath her blankets.

"Goodnight, Ava."

* * *

In the second floor's first bedroom, Melanie was out like a light, nearly falling out of her 'big girl bed' with her tossing and turning. Her hair hopelessly mussed, she caught hold of one bed rail and stubbornly refused to let go when Tony lifted her up to replace her in her bed.

"Melly, let go," Tony ordered gently, untangling her small fingers and laying her back down. He pulled the blankets back over her, brushing a kiss against her cheek. Melanie yawned and nestled deeper into her quilts again, pulling her doll close. "Love you, sweetpea," he whispered.

In some ways, Melanie was most like Jeanne. In her look, in the way she spoke, in the way she smiled, in the way she acted – even though her biological mother had died over a year ago, and when she called for her mother, they all knew she meant Ziva. She was the closest in age to how old Calev would have been, if not for that one tragic day. Ziva spoiled her oldest stepdaughter as a result, almost as though she had told herself if she couldn't have Calev, she would transfer all of the fussing to Melanie.

He would have been five next month. He would have been five, almost ready to start kindergarten. Old enough to learn things like football (or throwing one at least), how to write – and every DiNozzo child, he had long ago decided, would learn both sides of their heritage. They would know English, definitely, they had to, but he would teach them Italian. Jeanne had been planning on teaching them French. Now, Ziva would teach them Hebrew. If Helen was going to continue demanding visitation rights, Melanie and Alexa would have to learn French as well.

* * *

Alexa was sprawled out unceremoniously in her crib, her cold causing a noisy breathing pattern and fitful sleep. She had thrown the blankets right out of the crib, had kicked her stuffed animals away and her pillow was shoved against the bars.

Tony smiled softly and began reconstructing her sleeping area, replacing the pillow under her head, the blankets over her and the stuffed animal in her arms. "Goodnight, angel." He got a flailing fist in his face in return as she once more tore apart her crib. "Angel, right."

* * *

He had Ash and Maia asleep in the same crib for the moment, though there was another bedroom open. After all, he had prepped for one baby, not two.

For a while, he leaned on the edge of the crib, watching them. He had never quite realized just how much of Calev's life he had missed. He had missed this stage – the peaceful sleepy newborn with the warm, firm little body squirming in his arms…

Then it just sort of hit like a train. The grief, the very real reality that Calev had been a real, live, breathing child. He had been a little boy who had run around and had laughed and had crawled into bed with his mother after a nightmare to cuddle.

He hadn't had enough time in the last two years to really think about it. But now… now he had a lifetime.

* * *

Matt was actually sleeping in his 'sniper nest' when Tony came up into the attic.

"Hey, little sniper boy," Tony whispered, shaking Matt's shoulder. "Back in bed, there, soldier."

"I am on a stakeout," Matt mumbled sleepily as he sat up.

"Who are you staking out?" Tony asked, looking out the window.

"The spies," Matt said seriously, pointing at the dark sedan parked down the street. "They have been here ever since we got home. They followed us from school."

Tony sighed. "Back in bed, junior. I'll deal with them tomorrow." He kissed Matt quickly on the forehead and shooed him back off to bed.

* * *

"Everything all right?" Ziva asked drowsily when Tony had slipped under the covers.

"Take my backup with you tomorrow," he murmured. "That sedan is back outside again, I don't want you unarmed with the kids."

Ziva nodded and curled up against his side comfortably. "Shoot them," she yawned. "Just shoot them. They're probably CIA."

Tony laughed slightly. "This is America, sweetheart, remember? You can't just shoot somebody. There's paperwork to be filled out first."

* * *

"What was the license plate, Matt?" Tony asked the next morning at breakfast.

"On what?" Matai asked.

"On the spy-mobile. I'm going to run the plates at work."

"Delta-Alpha-Zulu 1-6-9," Ziva said, looking up from where she was feeding Asher. "D.C. plates. Navy Acura. Tinted windows. Mud in the wheel wells, probably came in from a dirt road. Scanner receiver on the roof. Two wire stands at the end of the hood, almost looked they used to hold diplomatic flags."

"Thank you, Ms. Photographic-Memory David," Tony said dryly.

* * *

When Ziva let Tony off at headquarters, Ahava and Matai were already eagerly peppering her with requests from the backseat, leaving Tony infinitely glad he wasn't the one dealing with them all day.

"This thing drives like a whale, Tony," Ziva complained as he kissed her lightly and then hopped out.

"Why do you think I named it Moby?" he asked rhetorically with a grin, shutting the door. "See you tonight."

* * *

"DAZ 169, Agent DiNozzo. Registered to the Israeli Embassy," said the young agent as he set down the results on Tony's desk.

"What the hell do the Israelis think they're doing?" Tony muttered, picking up the paper. "They told us they'd leave us alone if she managed to get back here… Thanks, James," he added.

"What's that, Tony?" Abby asked as she appeared in the bullpen.

"The Israelis are stalking us," Tony said wryly.

"What for?"

"That's what I intend to find out, Abs."

* * *

"I'm sorry, that's classified," Ambassador Meridor repeated, as Tony pulled a face in frustration and chucked a stapler at McGee's empty desk. "And I will make this exceedingly clear, Agent DiNozzo. Neither you nor Ms David are to engage the occupants of said vehicle at any time, for any reason. I assure you, they are not there to harm."

"Harm physically, you mean," Tony said. "I'd say when my 9-year-old is scared to go to bed because there are spies outside his house, that would considered harmful. When I feel like my wife cannot leave the house unarmed, I'd consider that harmful. When my wife doesn't consider her home safe because of these guys, I consider that harmful."

"They will not disturb your family, Agent DiNozzo."


	17. Epilogue

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the NCIS characters or storylines.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Do not fear, loyal readers! There will be spin-offs and sequels! I'm planning a spin-off series of one-shots surrounding the main event of this epilogue (Citizenship). I'm planning a spin-off series of two-chapter one-shots from the children – if that makes any kind of logical sense (The AM Chronicles: David, DiNozzo-Benoit, DiNozzo-David). I'm planning a sequel in general, although I don't know where I'm going with it yet… THERE WILL BE MORE, just with a different Story ID.

* * *

**_Epilogue: April 2014_**

"Tony, why do the Americans have to have such a complicated history?" Ziva asked, flipping through the pages of her study guide hopelessly.

"Ziva, you only have to answer six right," Tony laughed.

"Out of a potential of 96," Ziva snarled.

"They only ask you ten."

"Do you realize how many combinations of questions that is, Tony?" In frustration, she slammed the book shut. "This is not fair! Americans themselves do not even know half this stuff!"

"Calm down there, crazy ninja girl, you're going to wake the kids," Tony said. He watched her exhausted face for a moment, and then without warning, he scooped her up from the kitchen chair, carrying her back to their bedroom. "Enough studying. You'll do fine."

"I hate history tests. I hate politics."

"Ten questions, _mi amor_, that's all. You don't even have to get them all right," he added again, kissing her. "Did you forget what today is, in all your panic about this test?" he teased softly.

"No, I did not," Ziva replied defensively as he let her down. "And I was not panicking. I was grating."

"Venting. Good thing the test isn't on American expressions."

"If you do not shut up soon…"

"You'll what?" he asked, as she slid her arms around his neck. "I dare you to try it."

"Oh, you do not want me to try," Ziva said through another kiss. "Happy third anniversary, Tony."

* * *

"How come I can't come with you?" 5-year-old Melanie pleaded, wrenching her hand free from 15-year-old Ava's grip. "I can walk by myself, Ava!" she said stubbornly. "I'm in kindergarten, remember? I'm almost 6! Hold Alexa's hand, _she's_ the baby!"

"No!" 3-year-old Alexa whined, stomping her feet as Ahava caught her other niece's hand. "I'm _not_ the baby!"

"Hey, so if Ava and I never took that test, does that mean we're _not_ US citizens?" 11-year-old Matt asked. Unlike his sisters, Matt had picked up on the concept of contractions early on in his English education.

"You guys didn't have to take the test because you're under 18," Tony replied, shifting 2-year-old Maia to the other hip. "So long as Ziva passed, you guys were golden. Speaking of whom… where'd she go?" He rolled his eyes as he spotted his wife by the passenger window of their ever-present Israeli spies. "Ziva! Come on! You're going to be late for your own citizenship ceremony! Quit harassing your spies!"

* * *

"Coming inside?" Ziva asked them pointedly in Hebrew. The two shadowy figures inside shook their heads. "Didn't think so. Leaving yet?" Another shake. "Didn't think so."

Shaking her head with a sigh, Ziva let down 2-year-old Ash, smiling when he immediately went careening for his father. "Go tackle Daddy, Ash," she called, laughing when Ash crashed into Tony's legs, giggling hysterically.

"Ah, there's my little quarterback!" Tony crowed, hoisting Ash up with his free arm.

"Tony, _careful_!" Ziva said as she pulled Maia from his other arm just in time to let him catch Ash. "They are expensive to fix. Alexa, stay here," she added sternly as her younger stepdaughter began to wander off.

"That's what I keep telling Abby," McGee laughed as their neighbours appeared, Abby toting 2-year-old Sasha on her back. "She doesn't believe me."

"Well, it's not like I throw her around, Tim," Abby scoffed, swinging Sasha back around to her hip. "I know she's not a doll." Sasha let out a brief squeal of terror as Abby nearly lost her hold.

"I rest my case," McGee sighed, taking Sasha when Abby held her out wordlessly. "Can't promise we'll be able to stay for the whole thing. All sort of depends on her attitude. I _told_ you," he added firmly to Abby.

"Don't worry about it, probie," Tony said. "We got a party going down afterwards any way, just show up then and nobody'll notice another screaming kid."

"I haven't been to one of these in many a year, Mr. Palmer," came a very familiar Scottish cadence. "Not since my own and that was easily twenty years ago. Now, where are our guests of honour? Ah, yes…" And Ducky appeared from around the corner, followed by Palmer and Lee. "Ziva, my dear, congratulations are in order," he said genially, giving her a tight hug and a light peck on the cheek.

"Thank you, Ducky," she said with a smile, returning it.

* * *

"Mmm, see, that wasn't so hard," Tony laughed as he wrapped his free arm around her. "God, I thought that old man was never going to stop talking…"

"Congratulations, Ziva," came Jenny's voice as she and Gibbs joined the rest of the team. "This is exciting. I don't have to fill out visa-extension requests any more. You just killed two hundred pages of paperwork every year."

The team all burst out laughing, making a number of the other people in the auditorium turn to look at them.

"Where's Ava and Matt?" Abby asked, looking around the crowded room. "Don't tell you lost them, Tony."

"_Me_?" Tony exclaimed indignantly. "Technically, _I_ have no legal hold on them, they're _her _kids! Nah, they went back to school with their classes. Speaking of school, we have to drop Melanie at kindergarten on the way home."

"_After_ lunch, Daddy!" Melanie protested. "It's lunchtime, I'm hungry!"

* * *

The sedan was gone, when he looked out the living room window that night.

"They are gone," Ziva said quietly, slipping under his arm as she pushed back the curtain a little further.

"Yep," Tony affirmed, letting the curtains fall back as he pulled her into his arms. "Kids all out?" She nodded and then looked down the street to where the vehicle had been parked every day and every night in the past three years.

"You think we'll ever find out what they were doing here?" Tony asked, kissing her neck softly as he caught a whiff of a sweet honey smell.

Ziva was silent for a few minutes. "No," she replied. She smiled slightly when Tony ducked in to kiss her neck again. "Found something you like, Tony?" she asked teasingly.

Tony paused. "Mmm… honey dust." And with that, he whisked her off to the bedroom, finally free from the dark shadows of her past.


End file.
